But hush!
He speaks at last!
My heart bounded joyfully, and yet as if with a leaden weight upon it.
“Who is it that disturbs my meditation?” were the hermit’s words.
“A stranger! A brother! One who needs thy guidance!” I replied in a firm, yet humble tone.
“No human creature is stranger to me! Thou art too young to be my brother! The light that is left me shines only for my own feet!” came slowly from the hermit’s cave in a full, deep, rich voice.
“True, great master,” I replied, “but then, may I not be thy son, and follow thy footsteps?”
“Thou art very wise for thy years,” spake Benè-agâ.
“Not so wise, great master,” was my reply, “as I shall be when I have sat at thy feet.”
“Come somewhat closer; thy child-voice sounds like an echo,” continued the blind hermit. “And yet thou art not a child! Some great spirit plays in sportive mood behind thy face! I see that thou art blue-eyed and flaxen-haired. Thine eyes are set wide asunder, and above them towers a dome of thought. Thy home is in the land of the Norseman. At least thy fathers dwelt there. On thy cheek glows the crimson which, in the peach and apple-land, stains the autumn foliage!”