“Lord, accept my gift and go where it seems good to you.” And he, seeing in this the accomplishment of his purpose, received it, and partook of that pure food while the happy giver watched with such delight as when a mother feeds her only child and beholds new life flow through his veins, and the very air about the Prince appeared to distil in dews of visible blessing upon her head and joy hitherto unknown possessed her noble soul. And she said: “Lord, may your wishes prosper as mine have done!”, and so departed, caring no more for her golden dish than as if it had been an autumn leaf upon the ground. But the five ascetics, watching far off with greedy eyes, said: “The ascetic Gotama has failed. He is now mere man. Like the common herd he eats and drinks. He has nothing to teach us—nothing! Mistaken indeed were we in thinking to learn from a mere backslider! It is done and over, and the Gods are angry with him.” So they turned their backs in scorn and departed to Benares, there to resume their austerities. But when Sujata was gone, timidly receiving thanks, the Future Buddha arose and stood beneath the tree, refreshed in heart and body, his face shining with renewed strength, his energy swelling like a river in spate rushing rejoicing to the sea. And he knew that that place where for six years he had pursued a vanishing truth could hold him no more, its use being ended, and he set steadfast steps toward the tree. O Tree of Wisdom, Tree of Knowledge unsearchable, Tree whereunder the world’s deliverance was attained,—through all the rain of years between our sight and thee, shall we not look back and behold and veil our faces? For beneath this Tree was Wisdom perfected. Then taking his way, Bodhisattva begged from a man cutting grass for his cattle, an armful of pure and pliant grass, and, going onward, he saw before him that Tree of Knowledge, broad-leaved, noble, a tower of leafage, and knowing that this was where time and place meeting clasped hands, he spread the grass and seated himself with folded hands and feet beneath the pillared stems and the night came quietly down the woodland ways and veiled him from the sight of man. CHAPTER XI THUS have I heard. Yet of what follows I veil my face in writing, for it is high, holy, and beyond the mind of man to conceive, nor can it be told but in great parables, for by pictures we teach little children. It is the Arhats only,—the perfected saints,—who comprehend and can distinguish the symbol from the truth. Bodhisattva was tempted in the wilderness. Against him that Wicked One led his hosts, strong and cunning to daunt and allure. And as our Lord sat there in peace, suddenly the calm sea, heaven-reflecting, of his mind, was tossed and torn into wild billows as in a furious storm, and foes which he had thought conquered, rose mighty against him, some most infinitely sweet, piercing the heart with a pain more to be desired than joy.