Where we sat on the hillside together that evening the winds were low and the air was misty with light.  The huge sunbrowned slope on which we were sitting was sprinkled over with rare spokes of grass; it ran down into the vagueness underneath where dimly the village could be seen veiled by its tresses of lazy smoke.  Beyond was a bluer shade and a deeper depth, out of which, mountain beyond mountain, the sacred heights of Himalay rose up through star-sprinkled zones of silver and sapphire air.  How gay were our hearts!  The silent joy of the earth quickened their beating.  What fairy fancies alternating with the sweetest laughter came from childish lips!  In us the Golden Age whispered her last, and departed.  Up came the white moon, her rays of dusty pearl slanting across the darkness from the old mountain to our feet.  “A bridge!” we cried, “Primaveeta, who long to be a sky-walker, here is a bridge for you!”

Primaveeta only smiled; he was always silent; he looked along the gay leagues of pulsating light that lead out to the radiant mystery.  We went on laughing and talking; then Primaveeta broke his silence.

“Vyassa,” he said, “I went out in thought, I went into the light, but it was not that light.  I felt like a fay; I sparkled with azure and lilac; I went on, and my heart beat with longing for I knew not what, and out and outward I sped till desire stayed and I paused, and the light looked into me full of meaning.  I felt like a spark, and the dancing of the sea of joy bore me up, up, up!”

“Primaveeta, who can understand you?” said his little sister Vina, “you always talk of the things no one can see; Vyassa, sing for us.”

“Yes! yes! let Vyassa sing!” they all cried; and they shouted and shouted until I began:—­

“Shadowy petalled, like the lotus, loom the mountains with their snows:  Through the sapphire Soma rising, such a flood of glory throws As when the first in yellow splendour Brahma from the lotus rose.

“High above the darkening mounds where fade the fairy lights of day, All the tiny planet folk are waving us from far away; Thrilled by Brahma’s breath they sparkle with the magic of the gay.

“Brahma, all alone in gladness, dreams the joys that throng in space, Shepherds all the whirling splendours onward to their resting place, Where at last in wondrous silence fade in One the starry race.”

“Vyassa is just like Primaveeta, he is full of dreams to-night,” said Vina.  And indeed I was full of dreams; my laughter had all died away; a vague and indescribable unrest came over me; the universal air around seemed thrilled by the stirring of unknown powers.  We sat silent awhile; then Primaveeta cried out:  “Oh, look, look, look, the Devas! the bright persons! they fill the air with their shining.”