d: and then it had seemed to him, that he,
with many who, since his coming, had joined the band of whom he was
one (for, in his dream, the body he had worn on earth had been dead
an hundred years), were permitted to gather round the blessed maiden,
and to worship with her through all ages and ages of ages, saying,
Holy, holy, holy. This thing he had seen with the eyes of his spirit;
and in this thing had trusted, believing that it would surely come to
pass.

But now, (being at length led to enquire closely into himself,) even
as, in the pursuit of fame, the unrest abiding after attainment had
proved to him that he had misinterpreted the craving of his own
spirit--so also, now that he would willingly have fallen back on
devotion, he became aware that much of that reverence which he had
mistaken for faith had been no more than the worship of beauty.
Therefore, after certain days passed in perplexity, Chiaro said
within himself, "My life and my will are yet before me: I will take
another aim to my life."

From that moment Chiaro set a watch on his soul, and put his hand to
no other works but only to such as had for their end the presentment
of some moral greatness that should impress the beholder: and, in
doing this, he did not choose for his medium the action and passion
of human life, but cold symbolism and abstract impersonation. So the
people ceased to throng about his pictures as heretofore; and, when
they were carried through town and town to their destination, they
were no longer delayed by the crowds eager to gaze and admire: and no
prayers or offerings were brought to them on their path, as to his
Madonnas, and his Saints, and his Holy Children. Only the critical
audience remained to him; and these, in default of more worthy
matter, would have turned their scrutiny on a puppet or a mantle.
Meanwhile, he had no more of fever upon him; but was calm and pale
each day in all that he did and in his goings in and out. The works
he produced at this time have perished--in all likelihood, not
unjustly. It is said (and we may easily believe it), that, though
more labored than his former pictures, they were cold and unemphatic;
bearing marked out upon them, as they must certainly have done, the
measure of that boundary to which they were made to conform.

And the weight was still close at Chiaro's heart: but he held in his
breath, never resting (for he was afraid), and would not know it.

Now it happened, within these d