Shall I wander on? Shall I die?
I wander on, for I am too weary to die. At last, far off, on a ledge of rock, I see the figure of a man.
Like a black spot it interrupts this sea of light in which the very shadows have become a crimson glow.
An unspeakable yearning after this man fills my soul. For his steps are secure. His feet are scarcely lifted, yet quietly does he fare down the chasms and up the heights. I want to rush to meet him but a great numbness holds me back.
He comes nearer and nearer.
I see a pallid, bearded countenance with high cheek-bones, and emaciated cheeks…. The mouth, delicate and gentle as a girl's, is drawn in a quiet smile. A bitterness that has grown into love, into renunciation, even into joy, shines in this smile.
And at the sight of it I feel warm and free.
And then I see his eye which is round and sharp as though open through the watches of many nights. With moveless clearness of vision he measures the distances, and is careless of the way which his foot finds without groping. In this look lies a dreaming glow which turns to waking coldness.
A tremour of reverence seizes my body.
And now I know who this man is who fares through the desert in solitary thought, and to whom horror has shown the way to peace. He looks past me! How could it be different?