Siddhartha

Author(s): Hermann Hesse, Hilda Rosner
Publisher: Macmillan India

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would give me some old clothes and keep me here as your assistant, or rather your apprentice, for I must learn how to handle the boat.'
The ferryman looked keenly at the stranger for a long
time.
same and yet every moment it was new. Who could understand, conceive this! He did not understand it; he was only aware of a dim suspicion, a faint memory, divine voices.
Siddhartha rose; the pangs of hunger were becoming unbearable. He wandered painfully along the river bank, listened to the rippling of the water, listened to the gnawing hunger in his body.
When he reached the ferry the boat was already there and the ferryman, who had once taken the young Samana across, stood in the boat. Siddhartha recognized him again. He had also aged very much. 'Will you take me across?' he asked.
The ferryman, astonished to see such a distinguishedlooking man alone and on foot, took him into the boat and set off.
'You have chosen a splendid life,' said Siddhartha. 'It must be fine to live near this river and sail on it every day.'
The rower smiled, swaying gently. 'It is fine, sir, as you say, but is not every life, every work fine?
Maybe, but I envy you yours.' "Oh, you would soon lose your taste for it. It is not for people in fine clothes.?
Siddhartha laughed. 'I have already been judged by my clothes today and regarded with suspicion. Will you accept these clothes from me, which I find a nuisance? For I must tell you that I have no money to pay you for taking me across the river.'
The gentleman is joking,' laughed the ferryman. 'I am not joking, my friend. You once previously took me across this river without payment, so please do it today also and take my clothes instead.' 'And will the gentleman continue without clothes?' 'I should prefer not to go farther. I should prefer it if you
'I recognize you,' he said finally. 'You once slept in my hut. It is a long time ago, maybe more than twenty years ago. I took you across the river and we parted good friends. Were you not a Samanal I cannot remember your name.'
'My name is Siddhartha and I was a Samana when you last saw me.
'You are welcome, Siddhartha. My name is Vasudeva. I hope you will be my guest today and also sleep in my hut, and tell me where you have come from and why you are so tired of your fine clothes.'
They had reached the middle of the river and Vasudeva rowed more strongly because of the current. He rowed calmly, with strong arms, watching the end of the boat.
Siddhartha sat and watched him and remembered how once, in those last Samana days, he had felt affection for this man. He gratefully accepted Vasudeva's invitation. When they reached the river bank, he helped him to secure the boat. Then Vasudeva led him into the hut, offered him bread and water, which Siddhartha ate with enjoyment, as well as the mango fruit which Vasudeva offered him.
Later, when the sun was beginning to set they sat on a tree trunk by the river and Siddhartha told him about his origin and his life and how he had seen him today after that hour of despair. The story lasted late into the night
Vasudeva listened with great attention; he heard all about his origin and childhood, about his studies, his seekings, his pleasures and needs. It was one of the ferryman's greatest virtues that, like few people, he knew how to listen. Without his saying a word, the speaker felt that Vasudeva took in
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