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Little child-dreams floated through her mind that the silver-faced moon would hang there above and light the world forever, for the moon was the soul of the god Purusha whose sacrificed body had created the world, and that she would ride forever in the arms of this fair-faced god, and that they were both of one caste, the caste that had as mark the sweet pain in the heart.
They sold remarkably well: those chairs like nether millstones for the grinding away of men; the fragile china an incessant anxiety until accident broke it, and the spell of it at the same time; those silver spoons, by virtue of which Aunt Charlotte went in fear of burglary for six-and-fifty years; the bed from which I alone of all my kindred had escaped; the wonderful old, erect, high-shouldered, silver-faced clock.
Nor beamed she there alone that fair Diana; for a countless host of handmaidens the silver-faced stars had spread themselves over the deep purple sky; and there there they all shone in subdued and modest glory those myriads of beacons floating on the eternal waves of that far-off and silent sea!
What was it? He let the paper fall to the floor, and his eyes roved from one object to another. Where had he seen that Chinese mask before, and that great silver-faced clock? Somehow, mysterious and strange as it seemed, all this was vaguely familiar to him. Doubtless he had seen a picture of the room somewhere. He rose and wandered about.
Shine on, sweet regent of the night and ye, too, silver-faced stars, whose countenances are reflected and multiplied endlessly, as they are rocked to and fro, on the deep blue bosom of the Arno; while on the banks of that widely-famed stream, Nature herself, as if wearied of her toils, appears to be sleeping.
Silence, and calmness, and moonlight were still spread over the City of Flowers, while the marquis pursued the path leading to the suburb of Alla Droce. And the silver-faced stars shone on shone on, brightly and sweetly, as the young nobleman knocked at the well-protected door of Isaachar ben Solomon.
Long and formal were the farewells, thrice ended and thrice renewed. The Seeker he who had invited the lama to that haven from far-away Tibet, a silver-faced, hairless ascetic took no part in it, but meditated, as always, alone among the images.
Having written this letter, and sealed it with a wafer, he placed it in the mouth of the enchanted dog, saying, "Run off as fast as you can and take this to the King's daughter. Give it to no one else, but place it in the hand of that silver-faced maiden herself."
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