Two Little Pilgrims' Progress: A Story of the City Beautiful

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

They led their charge for some minutes indefinitely. Sometimes they paused and looked about them, speaking in undertones. Ben was rigidly faithful, and kept his eyes shut. As they hesitated for a moment near one of the buildings, a man who was descending the steps looked in their direction, and his look was one of recognition. It was the man who had watched them the day before, and he paused upon the steps, interested again, and conscious of being curious.

“What are they going to do?” he said to himself. “They are going to do something. Where did they pick up the other one—poor little chap!”

Meg had been looking very thoughtful during that moment of hesitancy. She spoke, and he was near enough to hear her.

“He shall open them where he can hear the water splashing in the fountain,” she said. “I think that’s the best.”

It seemed that Robin thought so, too. They turned and took their way to the end of the Court, where the dome lifted itself, wonderful, against the sky, and a splendor of rushing water, from which magnificent sea-monsters rose, stood grand before.

Their man followed them. He had had a bad night, and had come out into a dark world. The streams of pleasure-seekers, the gayly fluttering flags, the exhilaration in the very air seemed to make his world blacker and more empty. A year before he had planned to see this wonder, with the one soul on earth who would have been most thrilled, and who would have made him most thrill, to its deepest and highest meaning. Green grass and summer roses were waving over the earth that had shut in all dreams like these, for him. As he wandered about, he had told himself that he had been mad to come and see it all, so alone. Sometimes he turned away from the crowd, and sat in some quiet corner of palace or fairy garden; and it was because he was forced to do it, for it was at times when he was in no condition to be looked at by careless passers-by.

He had never been particularly fond of children; but somehow these two waifs, with their alert faces and odd independence, had wakened his interest. He was conscious of rather wanting to know where they had come from and what they would do next. The bit of the story of the Genius of the Palace of the Sea had attracted him. He had learned to love stories from the one who should have seen with him the Enchanted City. She had been a story lover, and full of fancies.

He followed the trio to the end of the great Court. When they reached there, three pairs of cheeks were flushed, and the eyes that were open were glowing. Meg and Robin chose a spot of ground, and stopped.

“Now,” said Meg, “open them—suddenly!”

The boy opened them. The man saw the look that flashed into his face. It was a strange, quivering look. Palaces, which seemed of pure marble, surrounded him. He had never even dreamed of palaces. White stairways rose from the lagoon, leading to fair, open portals the wondering world passed through to splendors held within. A great statue of gold towered noble and marvellous, with uplifted arms holding high the emblems of its spirit and power, and at the end of this vista, through the archway, and between the line of columns, bearing statues poised against the background of sky, he caught glimpses of the lake’s scintillating blue.