Early in the morning, even before the sun could be seen, Vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend.
"You haven't slept," he said.
"No, Vasudeva. I sat here, I was listening to the river. A lot it has told me, deeply it has filled me with the healing thought, with the thought of oneness."
"You've experienced suffering, Siddhartha, but I see: no sadness has entered your heart."
"No, my dear, how should I be sad? I, who have been rich and happy, have become even richer and happier now. My son has been given to me."
"Your son shall be welcome to me as well. But now, Siddhartha, let's get to work, there is much to be done. Kamala has died on the same bed, on which my wife had died a long time ago. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which I had then built my wife's funeral pile."
While the boy was still asleep, they built the funeral pile.