solitary knight shook his head. "They would jeer me out of
knowledge," he said. "Why, Reverie, the children cease their play
when I pass, and draw their tops and marbles out of the dust, and gaze
till I am hid from sight."

"It is fancy, only fancy," replied Reverie; "children stare at all
things new to them in the world. How else could they recognise and
learn again--how else forget? But as for this rabble's mockery, there
is a she-bear left called Oblivion which is their mistress, and will
some day silence every jeer."

The solitary knight shook his head again, eyeing me solemnly as if in
hope to discern in my face the sorcery that held himself in thrall.

The few wax tapers gave but light enough to find the way from goblet
to mouth. As for Reverie's wine, I ask no other, for it had the
poppy's scarlet, and overcame weariness so subtly I almost forgot
these were the hours of sleep we spent in waking; forgot, too, as if
of the lotus, all thought of effort and hope.

After all, thought I as I sipped, effort is the flaw that proves men
mortal; while as for hope, who would seek a seed that floats on every
wind and smothers the world with weeds that bear no fruit? It was, in
fact, fare very different from the ale and cheese of the "World's End."

"But you yourself," I said to Mr. Reverie presently; "in all the talk
at the inn you kept a very scrupulous silence--discreet enough, I own.
But now, what truly _was_ this Christian of whom we heard so much? and
why, may I ask, do his neighbours slander the dead? You yourselves,
did you ever meet with him?" I turned from one to the other of my
companions as they glanced uneasily each at each.

"Well, sir," said Reverie rather deliberately, "I have met him and
talked with him. I often think of him, in spite of myself. Yet he was
a man of little charm. He certainly had a remarkable gift for
estranging his friends. He was a foe to the most innocent compromise.
For myself, I found not much humour in him, no eye for grace or art,
and a limited imagination that was yet his absolute master.
Nevertheless, as you hint, these fellows, no more than I, can forget
him. Nor you?" He turned to the other.

"Christian," he replied, "I remember him. We were friends a little
while. Faithful I knew also. Faithful was to the last my friend. Ah!
Reverie, then--how many years ago!--there was a child we loved, all
three: do you remember? I see the low, green wall, cool from how many
a summer's s