The pandits were in ecstasy; they applauded vociferously ; and the crowd
followed them, deluded into the certainty that they had witnessed, that
day, the last shred of the curtains of Truth torn to pieces before their
eyes by a prodigy of intellect. The performance of his tremendous feat
so delighted them that they forgot to ask themselves if there was any
truth behind it after all.
The king's mind was overwhelmed with wonder. The atmosphere was
completely cleared of all illusion of music, and the vision of the world
around seemed to be changed from its freshness of tender green to the
solidity of a high road levelled and made hard with crushed stones.
To the people assembled their own poet appeared a mere boy in comparison
with this giant, who walked with such case, knocking down difficulties
at each step in the world of words and thoughts. It became evident to
them for the first time that the poems Shekhar wrote were absurdly
simple, and it must be a mere accident that they did not write them
themselves. They were neither new, nor difficult, nor instructive, nor
necessary.
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