Near the frontier there lived a man skilled in divination. His horse, for no reason, ran off into the land of the barbarians. Everyone consoled him, but his father said, 'How do you know this may not turn out to be a blessing?' After some months his horse returned, bringing with it a fine barbarian steed. Everyone congratulated him, but his father said, 'How do you know this may not turn out to be a misfortune?' The household was now rich in good horses, and his son loved to ride. The son fell and broke his thigh. Everyone consoled him, but his father said, 'How do you know this may not turn out to be a blessing?' A year later the barbarians invaded the frontier in force, and the able-bodied men took up their bows and went to war. Of those near the frontier, nine out of ten died. This man alone, because of his lameness, was spared, and father and son together kept their lives. Thus blessing turns to misfortune, and misfortune turns to blessing; the changes have no limit, and their depth cannot be fathomed.