“Is there safety in riches? Are the rich exempt and high in the Gods’ favour. No—no, indeed,—for their very luxuries consume them body and soul, making their bodies the home of disease and death, and their souls the harbourage of cowardice and terror. For it is harder to leave a Palace of gold than a mud hovel, and these are the spoilt children of the universe. There is no refuge in riches. In all the Three Worlds I see no refuge at all from the three Enemies—death, old age, and disease.” And as he meditated, his heart thus fixed, the five senses, as it were, extinguished, lost in the clear light of insight he entered on the first stage of pure rapture. All low desires submerged and in an ecstasy that was not joy but perfect clarity he saw the misery and sorrow of the world, sounding its deeps of agony and loss, the ruin wrought by age, disease, and death,—the hopeless dark beyond. Hitherto he had known only in part, but now the whole, even as an eagle suspended on unmoving pinions, floating in supernal sunshine looks down beholding the earth spread like a picture below him, and nothing hidden. And suddenly a great light shone within him—not to be described in words nor in thought comprehended. And he said these words, radiant with the first dawning beams of illumination: “I have heard the wisdom of men and it is the crackling of dry wood in a destroying fire. Now will I seek a Noble Law they have not known, a Law hidden and divine, and I will wrestle with disease and age and death and bind their terrors. For behind these things is Peace, if the way is opened. And I will seek until I die.” And slowly at length, passing downward from ecstasy his thoughts collecting centred again about things earthly, and he became aware that a man approached him, carrying a bowl in his hand, wearing a coarse robe of yellow, pacing slowly in the roadway. And their eyes met. And it appeared to the Prince that he had never before seen a man who resembled this strange mendicant, and he rose to greet him with courtesy, saying in his heart: “Who is this person? For his face is calm and joyful, and his eyes bespeak a soul at rest. Nor has he the mien of one tricked by sensual happiness, but austerity and contentment guide him, and though he treads on earth it does not hold him. And what is this bowl in his hand? I will accost him.” And this done, the stranger, with due salutation grave and sweet, replied: “Great lord, I am a religious mendicant, who, shuddering at the victorious onslaught of age, disease and death, seeing that all things are transient and permanence nowhere to be found, have left the fetters of my home behind me that I may search for some happiness that is trustworthy, that decays not, that is imperishable, that looks with equal mind on friend and enemy, and is regardless of wealth and beauty. Such is the only happiness that will content me.” And Siddhartha in deep amazement on hearing thoughts thus resembling his own, enquired eagerly: