Then loosing the precious jewel that shone in his head-tire, he looked at it lying in his palm where it flashed resplendent like the sun of Indra’s Paradise, and he said slowly: “Take this, Channa, to my father and lay it reverently before him. It is my heart. Tell him that I have entered upon the life of the ascetic, not indeed seeking a heavenly birth, for what is that to me if again I fall into rebirth and it leaves me in this world of lies and illusions?—but that I may find the Way of Deliverance. For if that way is found then no more need I leave those whom I love; no more put away my kindred. But since I must go, let not my father endure grief for me. Let him forget me and be glad.” Then Channa, listening with reverence, tried to make his voice heard, choking with grief. “This will I do—but O the heaping up of sorrow! How shall it be endured? Your father increases in years, your son is but a little infant, the sister of your mother, who tended your childhood, loves you as a son,—your wife, the mother of your child—My Prince, my Prince!—think better before all are lost. And drive me not from you. If I have been faithful is not trust the reward of fidelity? O turn for pity’s sake: set your face homeward. This I beseech you.” But the Prince, pale and resolved, made answer: “What is relationship? Were I to die I must leave them. My own mother loved me, but she is vanished from among us. The kinships of this world are like a flock of birds that for a night settle on the same tree and when dawn comes disperse. Such are its ties, no more. Does any tie of relationship ensure the joy of permanent union? No. All is said. Say no more, faithful one. Return to the city and make known to all men these my words—‘When I have found the Way—that Way which puts an end to the sad endless chain of birth and death, then and not otherwise I will return.’ And if I do not obtain this victory my body shall perish in the jungle.” And as he turned to go, the horse, hearing, bent his head and licked the foot of the Prince, and grief was seen in his large eyes. So the Prince, fondly stroking his head, bade him also farewell. “My horse, gentle and noble, your good deeds have gained their reward. No painful rebirth awaits you—this I know. Be content, for it is well.” Then taking his jewelled sword, shining like a meteor, he cut off the knot of hair which as a Prince he wore twisted with jewels and even as he did this, there passed a hunter going toward the jungle with bow and arrows and wearing a garment of coarse yellow, and Siddhartha hailed the man. “Friend, will you change your garment for mine, for with mine I have done for ever.” And the man drew near, consenting, and stripped off his garment and took the other, and for a moment the two looked each other in the eyes, Channa standing by.