young Brahmin would wish to talk to her. After a while the servant returned, asked Siddhartha to follow him, and conducted him without a word into a pavilion, where Kamala was lying on a couch, and left him alone with her.
“Weren’t you standing out there yesterday, greeting me?” asked Kamala.
“It’s true that I saw and greeted you yesterday.”
“But didn’t you yesterday wear a beard, and long hair, and dust in your hair?”
“You have observed well, you have seen everything. You have seen Siddhartha, the son of a Brahmin, who has left his home to become a Samana, and who has been a Samana for three years. But now, I have left that path and came into this city, and the first one I met, even before I had entered the city, was you. To say this, I have come to you, O Kamala! You are the first woman whom Siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. Never again I want to turn my eyes to the ground, when I’m coming across a beautiful woman.”