My words awakened the echoes of the rocky recesses, and the word “sleeps” came back to my ears in a hundred different tones, now loud and hissing, now soft and sibilant.
At last a full hour had now gone by since I had rattled the seeds of the dried gourd, and yet the blind hermit spake no word.
Again the death-like stillness sank upon the place, and the gathering shadows grew deeper and deeper.
Could the guide have played me false? I asked myself.
Nay, that cannot be!
And yet why comes there no sound from Benè-agâ’s cave?
Shall I summon him once more? May he not have gone forth to gather food?
Am I doomed to be turned back when I have reached the very threshold of my long-wished-for desire?
These and a hundred other questions flitted through my mind as I stood in the dark and gloomy corridor that led to Benè-agâ’s cave.
By the shadows on the rocky wall I could see that I had now been standing at least two hours awaiting summons to draw nearer.