et no one would interpret it to them; the innocent people
looked frightened when they asked.

Still, the name recurred; and like following golden threads through
meshes of green--all this life was gold and green--they became fascinated
by the tracing of it.

Then they heard of a man who "knew everything and was able to tell it."
They found him strangely clothed in soft brown, surrounded by youngsters;
and asked for all he knew about Dhoop Kichari-lal and Koob Soonder.
(Their request would have been made in different form, if they had
recognised his order at first glance.) He eyed them keenly, before
speaking:

"Dhoop Kichari-lal? That is the name of a colour which the woman from
far wears; she whom Jiwan Kawi loved and would have wed. And Koob
Soonder--small sister of Jiwan Kawi--our strong young man who went away;
she whose mother was taken by Fear when she was a babe, she who was
stricken by the blight when she began to run--she who was named for her
perfect beauty, before the Grass Jungle had seen beauty more perfect--"

"Do you know all the story?" Cadman interrupted, with dry lips.

"All," said the man. "Am I not here to teach the little people with the
telling of tales? Jiwan Kawi was sent on the great adventure, to change
our silks for cotton cloths--which the people consider more desirable."
(There was the hint of a tender smile on his lips, as he said the last
words.) "Jiwan Kawi was the most strong, the most beautiful of all our
young men when these same leaves were small, in the spring." He paused,
seeming to forget them--his eyes on the leaves.

Then his manner changed, taking on a quality of austere impressiveness,
as he continued:

"Jiwan Kawi returned from the great adventure; but a woman came after
him--sunrise to sunset behind. She had followed him from the place of
the multitudes, where all the people dwell together. He had seen her
there; he had loved her there; he had fled in fear from her beauty; he
had fled in distraction away back to his own place. Now--his joy showed,
past telling. But she had come without a mother to give her in marriage;
and marriage cannot be, otherwise.

"If it had not been for her so great beauty! Surely our women are
beautiful--as the gods know how to make common women. But when they saw
her--they went back into their houses and covered their faces from the
light of her eyes.

"That was the calamity; for a woman must be given in marriage by the
heart