t outcries of love and pity and wonder. For
each one as he listened remembered his own career and that of his
brethren in the old life, and admired to think that all the evil was
past, and wondered how, out of such tribulation and through so many
dangers, all were safe and blessed here. And there were others that were
not of them, who listened, some seated at the windows of the palaces and
some standing in the great square--people who were not like the others,
whose bearing was more majestic, and who looked upon the crowd all
smiling and weeping with wonder and interest, but had no knowledge of
the cause, and listened as it were to a tale that is told. The poet and
his audience were as one, and at every period of the story there was a
deep breathing and pause, and every one looked at his neighbour, and
some grasped each other's hands as they remembered all that was in the
past; but the strangers listened and gazed and observed all, as those
who listen and are instructed in something beyond their knowledge. The
little Pilgrim stood all this time not knowing where she was, so intent
was she upon the tale, and as she listened it seemed to her that all her
own life was rolling out before her, and she remembered the things that
had been, and perceived how all had been shaped and guided, and trembled
a little for the brother who was in danger, yet knew that all would be
well.

The woman who had been at her side listened too with all her heart,
saying to herself as she stood in the crowd, "He has left nothing out!
The little days they were so short, and the skies would change all in a
moment and one's heart with them. How he brings it all back!" And she
put up her hand to dry away a tear from her eyes, though her face all
the time was shining with the recollection. The little Pilgrim was glad
to be by the side of a woman after talking with so many men, and she put
out her hand and touched the cloak that this lady wore, and which was
white and of the most beautiful texture, with gold threads woven in it,
or something that looked like gold.

"Do you like," she said, "to think of the old time?"

The woman turned and looked down upon her, for she was tall and stately,
and immediately took the hand of the little Pilgrim into hers, and held
it without answering, till the poet had ended and come down from the
place where he had been standing. He came straight through the crowd to
where this lady stood, and said something to her. "Y