“It also gives me joy, to see you again.  You’ve been the guard of my sleep, again I thank you for this, though I wouldn’t have required any guard.  Where are you going to, oh friend?”

“I’m going nowhere.  We monks are always travelling, whenever it is not the rainy season, we always move from one place to another, live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us, accept alms, move on.  It is always like this.  But you, Siddhartha, where are you going to?”

Quoth Siddhartha:  “With me too, friend, it is as it is with you.  I’m going nowhere.  I’m just travelling.  I’m on a pilgrimage.”

Govinda spoke:  “You’re saying:  you’re on a pilgrimage, and I believe in you.  But, forgive me, oh Siddhartha, you do not look like a pilgrim.  You’re wearing a rich man’s garments, you’re wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman, and your hair, with the fragrance of perfume, is not a pilgrim’s hair, not the hair of a Samana.”

“Right so, my dear, you have observed well, your keen eyes see everything.  But I haven’t said to you that I was a Samana.  I said:  I’m on a pilgrimage.  And so it is:  I’m on a pilgrimage.”

“You’re on a pilgrimage,” said Govinda.  “But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes, few in such shoes, few with such hair.  Never I have met such a pilgrim, being a pilgrim myself for many years.”

“I believe you, my dear Govinda.  But now, today, you’ve met a pilgrim just like this, wearing such shoes, such a garment.  Remember, my dear:  Not eternal is the world of appearances, not eternal, anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair, and our hair and bodies themselves.  I’m wearing a rich man’s clothes, you’ve seen this quite right.  I’m wearing them, because I have been a rich man, and I’m wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people, for I have been one of them.”

“And now, Siddhartha, what are you now?”

“I don’t know it, I don’t know it just like you.  I’m travelling.  I was a rich man and am no rich man any more, and what I’ll be tomorrow, I don’t know.”

“You’ve lost your riches?”

“I’ve lost them or they me.  They somehow happened to slip away from me.  The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly, Govinda.  Where is Siddhartha the Brahman?  Where is Siddhartha the Samana?  Where is Siddhartha the rich man?  Non-eternal things change quickly, Govinda, you know it.”

Govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time, with doubt in his eyes.  After that, he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way.

With a smiling face, Siddhartha watched him leave, he loved him still, this faithful man, this fearful man.  And how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment, in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep, filled with Om!  The enchantment, which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the Om, was this very thing that he loved everything, that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw.  And it was this very thing, so it seemed to him now, which had been his sickness before, that he was not able to love anybody or anything.