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(83.5
( The angels dance round the brier-tree to soft drums, the stage lit with soft psychadelic hues )
Slowly as though stricken with some mystical fear, his heart trembling with nervous joy mixed with strange imaginary premonition, Som approaches the tree and hesitates to touch the cloth, but a Voice speaks :
VOICE Be not disheartened. It carries the perfume of the bareness of my shoulder which is the perfume of renunciation. Take it and go your way, And remember, along with it I give you my word, that in some early next birth, you will ask no other gift of me than the gift of Myself-the eternal gift granted by the Light that casts no shadow. ,
(Som, encouraged by the Voice, approaches closer to the brier-tree and plucks the cloth from it. That very instant, the tree loses its illumination and dims into an insignificant darkness which fades into the darkness of the stage.
Som, now almost like a pale spectre, moves warily along the stage; then, suddenly, bursts into loud laughter at which point we find him once again in the Weaver Birju's house.)
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