I took it, and was immediately beside him on the lawn, dripping and streaming.
“You must change your clothes at once!” he said. “A wetting does not signify where you come from—though at present such an accident is unusual; here it has its inconveniences!”
He was again a raven, walking, with something stately in his step, toward the house, the door of which stood open.
“I have not much to change!” I laughed; for I had flung aside my robe to climb the tree.
“It is a long time since I moulted a feather!” said the raven.
In the house no one seemed awake. I went to my room, found a dressing-gown, and descended to the library.
As I entered, the librarian came from the closet. I threw myself on a couch. Mr. Raven drew a chair to my side and sat down. For a minute or two neither spoke. I was the first to break the silence.
“What does it all mean?” I said.
“A good question!” he rejoined: “nobody knows what anything is; a man can learn only what a thing means! Whether he do, depends on the use he is making of it.”
“I have made no use of anything yet!”