Down and down, through a mere cleft in the rocks that closed in, shutting out all view....
Then, suddenly, he gave a little gasp and stood still.
So that was the Lake of the Soul's Hope--Mānasa Sarovara! The pure beauty of it sank into him, its rest and peace filled him with content.
A wilderness--a perfect wilderness of bright-hued flowers between the snow slopes and the lake whose blue waters gleamed like sapphires between the diamond icebergs that drifted hither and thither on its breeze-kissed waves.
But not one sign of life; no movement, no noise, save every now and again a far-distant thunderous roar, and a puff of distant white smoke upon some mountain-side telling of a falling avalanche.
Cradled in snow, yet wreathed in flowers; solemn, secure, unchangeable!
It was a marvellous sight. He was glad he had come, for it was a place where one could think--really think.
So he stood and thought--really--for a while; and then he took out his watch. Time was waning, for he had to re-climb the pass and rejoin his tent ere sundown. Still there was enough left for him to reach that jutting flower-set promontory, whence, surely the best view of the whole would be obtained.
Yes! decidedly the best! Shiv's Paradise, rising from the water's edge, showed from hence, equal-sided, serene, unassailable, a pure pyramid of ice.
Truly a sight never to be forgotten; a sight well worth a pilgrimage.