[ III. A FATAL KISS]
[ I. ]
May that triumphant Lord protect us, who as he stands in mysterious meditation, bathed in twilight, motionless, and ashy pale[1], with the crystal moon in his yellow hair, appears to the host of worshippers on his left, a woman, and to those on his right, a man.
There lived of old, on the edge of the desert, a rájá of the race of the sun. And like that sun reflected at midday in the glassy depths of the Mánasa lake, he had an image of himself in the form of a son[2], who exactly resembled him in every particular, except age. And he gave him the name of Aja, for he said: He is not another, but my very self that has conquered death, and passed without birth straight over into another body. Moreover, he will resemble his ancestor, and the god after whom I have called him Aja[3]. So as this son grew up, his father's delight in him grew greater also. For he was tall as a shála tree, and very strong, and yet like another God of Love: for his face was more beautiful than the face of any woman, with large eyes like lapis-lazuli, and lips like laughter incarnate: so that his father, as often as he looked at him, said to himself: Surely the Creator has made a mistake, and mixed up his male and female ingredients, and made him half and half. For if only he had had a twin sister, it would have been difficult to tell with certainty, which was which.