The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth
who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own
beauty.  He was so fascinated by himself that, one
morning, he fell into the lake and drowned.  At the
spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was
called the narcissus.

But this is not how the author of the book ended the
story.

He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the
forest appeared and found the lake, which had been
fresh water, transormed into a salty lake of tears.
     "Why do you weep?" the goddesses asked?
     "I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied.
     "Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for
Narcissus," they said, " for though we always pursued
him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his
beauty close at hand."
     "But...was Narcissus beautiful?" the lake asked.
     "Who better than you to know that?" the goddesses
said in wonder.  "After all, it was by your banks that
he knelt each day to contemplate himself!"
     The lake was silent for sometime.  Finally it said:
     "I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that
Narcissus was beautiful.  I weep because each time he
knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of
his eyes, my own beauty reflected."
     "What a lovely story," the alchemist thought.