"Death."
"What is death?"
"Look! here comes a funeral. The man who lies on the bamboo bier has ceased to live. Those who follow him are his mourning relations. See how he is now laid on a pyre, down there on the bank, and how he is burnt; soon all that is left of him will be a little heap of ashes."
"Must all men die?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Myself also?"
"Yes."
More sorrowful than ever he returned home, and in his soul a longing ripened to save mankind from suffering, care, and death. He heard a voice, "Choose between a royal crown and the beggar's staff, between worldly power and the lonely desolate paths which lead to the redemption of mankind."
His resolution was soon taken. In the night he stole gently to Yasodara's couch, and looked his last on his young wife sleeping on a bed of roses, with her new-born son in her arms. Then he left behind all he loved, bade his groom saddle his horse, and rode to the copper gates, now watched by a treble guard. A magic wind passed over the watchmen, and they fell into a deep sleep, while the massive gates opened noiselessly of themselves.
When he was far away from Kapilavastu, he sent his servant back with the horse and its royal trappings, changed clothes with a tattered beggar, and went on alone. Then he met the odious tempter, the power of evil, who offered him dominion over the four great continents if he would only abandon his purpose. He overcame the tempter, and continued his journey until he came to another kingdom, where he settled in a cave and attempted to convince the Brahmins that Brahma could not be a god, since he had created a wretched world. The Brahmins, however, received him with suspicion, so he retired to a lonely country where, with five disciples, he devoted himself to deep meditation and self-mortification.