The Snapped Willow
drawn from her body and consumed by the rug until naught of it remained within her.
Meanwhile Lao Tzu wandered about the ruins of Cambodia. He marveled at the excellence with which the old Cambodians had builded. He wrote a strange poem in which he referred to the ancients who had erected their homes to last for centuries and permitted their bodies to perish. The tender traceries on the buildings were used by him for patterns for his lu-shih. He wrote of the great fresh-water lake, "Tale Sap," and of the Siamrap stream. But greater than all others was the long poem which was inspired by Nakhon Wat, a sculptured, massive pyramid rising among forests and jungle-veiled plains almost two hundred feet. Many are the legends of how the old Cambodians worshipped in this great temple but Lao Tzu preferred to accept that one which gave credence to the fact that the supreme being to be worshipped and adored was a repulsive snake.
Despite grave doubts of their veracity the poems were exquisite, as clear cut as the carvings on the ancient temples. He imagined that they would bring great renown to him upon his return, and yet they did not. They caused less of a ripple in the stream of humanity that is China than a stone thrown into a stagnant pond.
Lao Tzu was saddened by the reception which his greatest work received but his sadness was somewhat mitigated by the beautiful rug which was now com-
113
