"There is a place that is called Paradise. It is not in heaven nor upon earth, but between heaven and earth, at an equal distance from both, as it was fixed there by God. Paradise is forty miles higher than the Flood rose at its highest. Paradise is of the same length and breadth on all sides. There is no hill nor valley there. There comes never frost, there falls never snow. The earth is luxuriant and fruitful there, but there are no evil beasts nor dangers nor defects of any kind. There is a pure well, which is called the well of life. There is a splendid and beautiful wood called 'Radion saltus,' the leaves of which never fade. Each of its trees is straight and round like a spar, and so high that the top is invisible. There are all kinds of trees which stand in complete beauty and bear all manner of blossoms and beautifully coloured apples and fruits of all kinds. There no leaves fall from the branches. The wood stands in the midst of Paradise. One of the fruit trees was forbidden to Adam; in its fruit was hidden the knowledge of good and evil. There is neither hate nor hunger, and never is there night nor darkness, but always perpetual day. The sun shines there seven times more strongly than in this world, for its light is increased with the light of all the stars. There walk Angels, keeping all things in order in joy and pleasure. Thither have the souls of good men gone (and shall go and dwell there till Doomsday) since God opened the place when He took thither the soul of the Thief who died upon the cross.
"In Paradise there is a bird which is called the Phœnix. It is very large, and wonderful is the fashion of its creation, and it is the King of all birds. It bathes in the well of life, and then flies up on that tree which is the highest in Paradise, and sits in the sun. Then it shines with a light like that of the sun's rays. Its whole body gleams like gold, its feathers are like God's angels, its breast is beautiful, and its beak resembles its feathers. Its eyes are like crystal, and its feet like blood. But when this beautiful bird, the Phœnix, flies from Paradise to the land of Egypt and dwells there five weeks, all kinds of birds gather there and sing round it in all manner of ways. Then the men who dwell there hear that and gather round it from everywhere, and speak as follows: 'Welcome, Phœnix, to our land! Thou shinest like red gold; thou art the King of all the birds!' Then the people of the land make another phœnix of wax and copper which resembles the old one as much as possible. All the birds fall at its feet and honour it with a glad voice. Along its back there runs a red stripe, beautiful as burnt gold. When its fifth week is passed, the beautiful Phœnix flies again to Paradise. All the birds fly with it, some below it, some above it, on both sides. But when they cannot follow it any longer they return home."
The monk paused and looked at Leif, who sat bowed opposite him with open mouth and eyes. When the monk saw how absorbed his hearer was, he smiled and continued:
"It happened four thousand years before the birth of Christ (one millennium had passed) that the Phœnix had become old, and gathered round it a great number of birds, in order to bring together a great pile of fuel. But by God's will it happened so that the sun shone on the pile of fuel and the sun's warmth kindled a fire in it. But the Phœnix fell in the midst of the fire and was burned to ashes. But the third day afterwards it rose from the dead and was young again, and went to the Well of Life and bathed. Then its feathers grew again, as beautiful as they had ever been. It becomes old in the course of a thousand winters, then it burns itself again to ashes, and rises each time young once more. But no one knows, except God alone, whether it is a male or a female bird."
The monk stopped. The sun had gone down, and the dusk of twilight filled the air. He could no longer see to distinguish the characters. He rolled up his skin-scroll carefully together and tied a band round it.
Leif had swallowed his words to the end with eager ears. At the same time the monk's droning way of reading had had a soporific effect upon him. When the monk was silent for a moment, Leif gave a deep yawn and felt a strange weariness in all his limbs. The next moment he fell asleep where he sat, with his head propped on his hands.
The monk let him sit and sleep while he uttered a long and humble prayer to God, that it might be granted him to save this heathen's soul from destruction and the outer darkness.
Then he awoke Leif gently, and bade him follow him into the cave and share his straw bed and his cloak with him, for it was now cold outside.
Leif awoke and saw that it was already night, with a pale glimmer of the moon behind black clouds. Now the time had really come. But he was not a little curious to learn more about the monk's cave, and, besides, it was perhaps best to let him fall asleep before he left the island.
The monk struck a light and kindled a shaving. Then he crept into the low mouth of the cave. Leif crept after him, and the first thing he set eyes upon was a magnificent sword with a golden hilt and gold inlaid blade. It stood set up against the wall in the inner-most part of the cave. It was the most beautiful sight which at the moment could meet Leif's eyes, and it was impossible for him to avert his gaze from the shining sword. When he noticed the monk's look fixed on him, he compelled himself to ask, in an indifferent tone, how it was he possessed such a valuable sword, as he was so poor and peaceful.