ONCE on a bright moonlight night the wise and mighty Krishna fell into deep meditation, and said,—

"I thought man the most beautiful creation on earth; but I was mistaken. Here I see the lotus, rocked by the night breeze. Oh, how much more beautiful it is than any living being; its leaves have just opened to the silver light of the moon, and I cannot wrest my eyes from it!

"Among men there is nothing to compare with it," repeated he, sighing.

But after a while he thought,—

"Why should I, a god, not create, by the power of my word, a being who would be among men what the lotus is among flowers? Let it be then to the delight of man and the earth. Lotus, change thou into a living maiden and stand before me."

The water trembled slightly, as if touched by the wings of a swallow; the night grew bright; the moon shone with more power in the sky; the night thrushes sang more distinctly, then stopped on a sudden, and the charm was accomplished: before Krishna stood the lotus in human shape.

The god himself was astonished.

"Thou wert a flower of the lake," said he; "henceforth be the flower of my thought, and speak."

The maiden began to whisper in a voice as low as the sound made by the white leaves of the lotus when kissed by a summer breeze,—

"Lord, thou hast changed me into a living being; where now dost thou command me to dwell? Remember, lord, that when I was a flower I trembled and drew in my leaves at every breath of the wind. I feared heavy rain; I feared storms; I feared thunder and lightning; I feared even the burning rays of the sun. Thou hast commanded me to be the incarnation of the lotus; hence I have kept my former nature, and now I fear the earth and all that is on it. Where dost thou command me to dwell?"

Krishna raised his wise eyes to the stars, meditated a while, and then asked,—

"Dost thou wish to live on the summits of mountains?"

"Snow and cold are there, lord, I am afraid."

"Well, I will build thee a palace of crystal at the bottom of the lake."

"In the depths of the waters move serpents and other monsters; I am afraid, lord."

"Dost thou prefer the boundless steppes?"

"Whirlwinds and tempests rush over the steppes like wild herds."

"What is to be done with thee, incarnate flower? Ha! In the caves of Ellora live holy hermits. Wilt thou dwell far away from the world, in those caves?"

"It is dark there, lord; I am afraid."

Krishna sat on a stone, and rested his head on his hand. The maiden stood before him, trembling and timid.

Meanwhile the dawn began to brighten the sky on the east. The surface of the lake, the palms, and the bamboos were gilded. At the water, rosy herons, blue storks, in the forest, peacocks and bengalee were heard, and these were accompanied by distant sounds of strings stretched over pearl shells, and by words of human song. Krishna awoke from meditation and said,—

"That is Valmiki, the poet, saluting the rising sun."

After a while the curtain of purple flowers covering the climbing plants was pushed aside, and Valmiki appeared at the lake.

When he saw the incarnate lotus the poet ceased to play, the pearl shell fell from his grasp to the earth, his arms dropped at his sides, and he stood dumb, as if the mighty Krishna had made him a tree at the edge of the water.

The god was delighted with this wonder at his work, and said,—

"Awake, Valmiki, and speak."

And Valmiki said,—

"I love!"

This was the only word that he remembered, and the only word that he could utter.

Krishna's face was radiant at once.

"Wonderful maiden, I have found for thee a worthy dwelling-place in the world: thou wilt dwell in the heart of the poet."

Valmiki repeated a second time,—

"I love!"

The will of the mighty Krishna, the will of the deity, began to urge the maiden toward the heart of the poet. The god also made the heart of Valmiki as transparent as crystal.

Calm as a summer day, quiet as the surface of the Ganges, the maiden advanced toward the dwelling prepared for her. But suddenly, when she looked into the heart of Valmiki, her face grew pale, and terror surrounded her, as a winter wind. Krishna was astonished.

"Incarnate flower," inquired he, "dost thou fear even the heart of a poet?"

"O lord," answered the maiden, "where hast thou commanded me to dwell? There in that one heart I see the snowy summits of mountains, the abysses of waters, full of marvellous creatures, the steppe with its whirlwinds and tempests, and the caves of Ellora with their darkness; therefore I am afraid, O lord!"

But the good and wise Krishna replied,—

"Calm thyself, incarnate flower. If in the heart of Valmiki there lie lonely snows, be thou the warm breath of spring, which will melt them; if in it there be the abyss of waters, be thou the pearl in that abyss; if in it there be the desert of the steppe, sow flowers of happiness there; if in it there be the dark caves of Ellora, be thou in that darkness the sun-ray—"

And Valmiki, who during that time had recovered his speech, added,—

"And be thou blessed!"