the soul in its outward form and vesture--and the man knew who it was.
And the angel said, "Do you know him?"
And the man said, "I know him," and he looked after the figure.
And the angel said, "Have you forgiven him?"
But the man said, "How beautiful my brother is!"
And the angel looked into the man's eyes, and he shaded his own face with
his wing from the light. He laughed softly and went up to God.
But the men were together on earth.
I awoke.
The blue, blue sky was over my head, and the waves were breaking below on
the shore. I walked through the little chapel, and I saw the Madonna in
blue and red, and the Christ carrying his cross, and the Roman soldiers
with the rod, and the Blessed Bambino with its broken face; and then I
walked down the sloping rock to the brick pathway. The olive trees stood
up on either side of the road, their black berries and pale-green leaves
stood out against the sky; and the little ice-plants hung from the crevices
in the stone wall. It seemed to me as if it must have rained while I was
asleep. I thought I had never seen the heavens and the earth look so
beautiful before. I walked down the road. The old, old, old tiredness was
gone.
Presently there came a peasant boy down the path leading his ass; she had
two large panniers fastened to her sides; and they went down the road
before me.
I had never seen him before; but I should have liked to walk by him and to
have held his hand--only, he would not have known why.
Alassio, Italy.
VIII. LIFE'S GIFTS.
I saw a
woman sleeping. In her sleep she dreamt Life stood before her, and
held in each hand a gift--in the one Love, in the other Freedom. And she
said to the
woman, "Choose!"
And the
woman waited long: and she said, "Freedom!"
And Life said, "Thou hast well chosen. If thou hadst said, 'Love,' I would
have given thee that thou didst ask for; and I would have gone from thee,
and returned to thee no more. Now, the day will come when I shall return.
In that day I shall bear both gifts in one hand."
I heard the
woman laugh in her sleep.
London.
IX. THE ARTIST'S SECRET.
