All the rest of the
night and all the next day Hari thought of the lion. There is
that! he kept thinking. Something more than I know!
Something more beautiful than Sheep-God, even if Sheep-God existed.
Something Real! He did not mention his experience to the flock.
It was too sacred, and, moreover, he scarcely was aware of the sheep
at all. He just longed for another sight of the lion.
All the next night
Hari waited. But the lion did not come. The moon and the stars set
and the sky grew light with dawn, revealing the futile, insipid
green meadow. Everything was just as it had always been, except that
now Hari's grief and loneliness were greater than ever before. The
sun rose and he put his head between his paws, which appeared to him
like cloven hoofs, and wept.
It was after
all only a dream. What a fool I am!