their hearts, and to have something for which they could
still fight and storm, and for a little forget.'

'I was one who had been among the highest.' He spoke not with pride, but
in a low and deep voice which went to the heart of the listener, and
brought the tears to her eyes. It was not like that of the painter in the
heavenly city, who rejoiced and was glad in his work, though he was but
as a humble workman, serving those who were more great. But this man had
the sorrow of greatness in him, and the wonder of those who can do much,
to find how little they can do. 'My veins,' he said, 'were filled with
fire, and my heart with the rage of a great desire to be first, as I had
been first in the days of the gentle life. And I made my plan to be
greater than all the rest, to paint a vast picture like the world, filled
with all the glories of life. In a moment I had conceived what I should
do, for my strength was as that of a hundred men; and none of us could
rest or breathe till it was accomplished, but flung ourselves upon this
new thing as upon water in the desert. Oh, my little sister, how can I
tell you; what words can show forth this wonderful thing? I stood before
my great canvas with all those who were of my faction pressing upon me,
noting every touch I made, shouting, and saying, "He will win! he will
win!" when lo! there came a mystery and a wonder into that place. I had
arranged men and women before me according to all the devices of art, to
serve as my models, that nature might be in my picture, and life; but
when I looked I saw them not, for between them and me had come a Face.'

The eyes of the little Pilgrim dropped with tears. She held out her hands
towards him with a sympathy which no words could say.

'Often had I painted that Face in the other life, sometimes with awe and
love, sometimes with scorn,--for hire and for bread, and for pride and
for fame. It is pale with suffering, yet smiles; the eyes have tears in
them, yet light below, and all that is there is full of tenderness and of
love. There is a crown upon the brow, but it is made of thorns. It came
before me suddenly, while I stood there, with the men shouting close to
my ear urging me on, and fierce fury in my heart, and the rage to be
first, and to forget. Where my models were, there it came. I could not
see them, nor my groups that I had planned, nor anything but that Face. I
called out to my men. "Who has done this?" but they heard me not, no