A cloud of servants poured forth from the halls of the ancient
House, and followed their young Lord.
He who remained behind, knelt; and fragments of his prayer were brought
me by the wind, 'O Heavenly Father! let not this blooming soul wither
away upon this arid earth! Lead it not into the temptation of human
servitude; remove from it all sinful stain! Let it serve Thee alone!
Thee and the many times murdered Mother!'
He continued kneeling, although sunk in silence, as if wrapped in deep
meditation, scarcely knowing whether to indulge in the dim prophecies
then surging his soul, or to prolong his prayers. Then I saw him start,
clasp his hands forcibly together--and again his words were borne to me
by the wind.
'O Heavenly Father! I ask Thee not to sweeten the bitter cup of life for
my friend; I know that all who live must suffer; but, O merciful God,
spare him the blush of shame, the infamy of weakness!'
Then I saw the Wanderer rise from his knees, descend the hill, and make
his way on foot through the forest to the distant rocks.
* * * * *
About high noon of the same day they met again before the gate of a
great city. The young man was still on his horse, his fair brow already
darkened by the heat of the sun; the dew from the fresh home-turf was
quite dry upon his stirrups, and the glitter of the steel dimmed with
rust. The horse gladly stopped, as if wearied with his rapid flight
through the distant space, but the blue eye of the youth still sparkled
with its early fire.
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