He stopped, seeming to listen to something they could not hear.
"The tides of the seasons flow through the blood of common men," he went on; "they carry the gold of delight away; and the rock-stuff of strength. Then men are old. It is not so with her. Bitter waters of grief have drenched her, they have covered her as the deep covers the lands below; but her ascending flames of life consume them all. She rises like a creature made of jewels, to enlighten men against the snares of that same deep from which she has come up—wearing splendours of loveliness for garmenture.
"The people weep their tears for her pain; but she heals their hurts with a look. She restores their dead memories of youth to old men—their memories of dead loves. She restores the eyes of girlhood to the elder women, who have long been weary with yearning after dead little ones—after dead men. She has taught the little people who cannot think—the child-hearted people—that Love-the-transcendent can never die!
"Dhoop Ki Dhil? She is youth, eternal! She is motherhood—the divine lotus of the world!"
Turning to face Cadman and Skag, the man said gently:
"The way lies before you. Go swiftly now. Peace."
And rising softly in the dead hush, he moved away.
Cadman sat long meditating, before he spoke at all; then it was like thinking aloud:
"A mystic brother of the Vindhas—one with the old man outside; not leaving these little semi-primitives alone—identifies himself with them—that's good business!"
"Let's get on!" breathed Skag.