"Did he tell you anything of what he had seen in the high world
up yonder?"

"He said he had seen the Dream of the God. I could not get more
than that. But there are many people here who believe that the
Universe as we know it is but an image in the dream of Ishvara,
the Universal Spirit - in whom are all the gods - and that when
He ceases to dream we pass again into the Night of Brahm, and all
is darkness until the Spirit of God moves again on the face of
the waters. There are few temples to Brahm. He is above and
beyond all direct worship."

"Do you think he had seen anything?"

"What do I know? Will you eat the seeds? The Night of No Moon
will soon be here."

She held out the seed-vessels, laughing. I write that down but
how record the lovely light of kindliness in her eyes - the
almost submissive gentleness that yet was a defense stronger
than steel. I never knew - how should I? - whether she was
sitting by my side or heavens away from me in her own strange
world. But always she was a sweetness that I could not reach, a
cup of nectar that I might not drink, unalterably her own and
never mine, and yet - my friend.

She showed me the wild track up into the mountains where the
Pilgrims go to pay their devotions at the Great God's shrine in
the awful heights, regretting that we were too early for that