edifice.
But when he would have passed through the high arched door, his way was
barred by one whose garments were white even as the whiteness of the
Temple, whose eyes were clear even as the skies, and whose face shone
even as the shining Beautiful Sea.

The Pilgrim, hesitating, spoke: "You are?"

The other answered in a voice that was even as the soft wind that
stirred the leaves of the forest: "I am Thyself."

Then the Pilgrim--"And your office?"

"I am the appointed Keeper of the Temple of Truth; save by my permission
none may enter here."

Cried the Pilgrim eagerly: "But I? I may enter? Surely I have fulfilled
The Law! Surely I have paid The Price!"

"What law have you fulfilled? What price have you paid?" gently asked he
in the garments of white.

Proudly now the other answered: "I have accomplished alone the long
journey through the Desert of Facts. Alone I have endured the days under
the sky of brass; alone I have borne the awful solitude of the nights. I
was not drawn aside by the lovely scenes that tempted me. I was not
turned back by the dreadful Shapes that threatened me. And so I have
attained the Outer-Edge-Of-Things."

"You have indeed fulfilled The Law," said he of the shining face. "And
The Price?"

The Pilgrim answered sadly: "I left behind all things dearest to the
heart of man--Wealth of Traditions inherited from the Long Ago, Holy
Prejudices painfully gathered through the ages of the past, Sacred
Opinions, Customs, Favors and Honors of the World that is, in the times
that are."

"You have indeed paid The Price," said the soft voice of the other, "but
still, still there is one thing more."

"And the one thing more?" asked the Pilgrim, "I knew not that there
could be one thing more."

The Keeper of the Temple was silent for a little, then said very gently:
"Is there nothing, O Hadji, that you would ask Thyself?"

Then all at once the Pilgrim understood. Said he slowly: "There is still
one thing more. Tell me, tell me--Why? Why The Law of the Pilgrimage?
Why the journey so long? Why the way so hard? Why is the Temple of Truth
here on the Outer-Edge-Of-Things?"

And Thyself answered clearly: "He who lives always within Things can
never worship in Truth. Eyes blinded by the fog of Things cannot see
Truth. Ears deafened by the din of Things cannot hear Truth. Brains
bewildered by the whirl of Things cannot think Truth. Hearts deadened by
the weight of Things cannot feel Truth. Throats