visitation were wasted, and that it would be better to employ
the time in gathering water from the pools that formed among
the mountains in the rainy season, or in sinking wells along
the edge of the desert. Others had newly come to the city and
were teaching that there was no Source, and that the story of
the poor man who reopened it was a fable, and that the hours of
visitation were only hours of dreaming. There were many who
believed them, and many more who said that it did not matter
whether their words were true or false, and that it was of small
moment whether men went to visit the fountain or not, provided
only that they worked in the gardens and kept the marble pools
and basins in repair and opened new canals through the fields,
since there always had been and always would be plenty of water.

As I listened to these sayings it seemed to me doubtful
what the end of the city would be. And while this doubt was
yet heavy upon me, I heard at midnight the faint calling of
the trumpet, sounding along the crest of the mountains: and as
I went out to look where it came from, I saw, through the
glimmering veil of the milky way, the shape of a blossom of
celestial blue, whose petals seemed to fall and fade as I
looked. So I bade farewell to the old man in whose house I
had learned to love the hour of visitation and the Source and
the name of him who opened it; and I kissed the hands and the
brow of the little Ruamie who had entered my heart, and went
forth sadly from the land of Koorma into other lands, to look for
the Blue Flower.