[And the stranger gazed with strange inquiry into the priest's face; but he crossed himself silently, and spoke no word.]
And nightly I strove to shut out the sound from my ears and could not; and nightly the torment of hearing it ever increased like a torment of hell—ay de mit nightly, for uncounted generations of years! So that in time a great fury would seize me whenever the cursed echoes came; and, one dark hour, when she seemed to hear it not, and slept deeply, I sought my rusted blade, and betook me toward the sound,—beyond the dale of fountains—into the further dimness of swaying mosses,—whither, meseems, the low land trendeth southward and toward those wan wastes which are not land nor water, yet which do quake to a great and constant roaring as of waves in wrath.
[A moment the voice of the aged man failed him, and his frame quivered as in the beginning of agony.]
Now I feel, padre, that but little time is allotted me to speak. I may never recount to thee my wanderings, and they, indeed, are of small moment.—Enough to tell thee that I never again could find the path to the fountains and to her, so that she became lost to me. And when I found myself again among men, lo! the whole world was changed, and the Spaniards I met spake not the tongue of my time, and they mocked the quaintness of my ways and jibed at the fashion of my speech. And my tale I dared tell to none, through fear of being confined with madmen, save to thee alone, and for this purpose only I summoned thee. Surely had I lived much in this new age of thine men must have deemed me bereft of reason, seeing that my words and ways were not like unto theirs; but I have passed my years in the morasses of unknown tropics, with the python and the cayman,—and in the dark remoteness of forests inhabited by monstrous things,—and in forgotten ruins of dead Indian cities,—and by shores of strange rivers that have no names,—until my hair whitened and my limbs were withered and my great strength was utterly spent in looking for her.
'Verily, my son,' spake the confessor, 'any save a priest might well deem thee mad,—though thy speech and thy story be not of to-day. Yet I do believe thy tale. Awesome it is and strange; but the traditions of the Holy Church contain things that are not less strange: witness the legend of the Blessed Seven of Ephesus, whose lives were three hundred and sixty years preserved that the heresy concerning the resurrection of the flesh might be confounded forever. Even in some such way hath the Lord preserved thee through the centuries for this thine hour of repentance. Commend, therefore, thy soul to God, repentingly, and banish utterly from thee that evil spirit who still tempts thee in the semblance of woman.'
'Repent!' wonderingly spake the wanderer, whose great black eyes flamed up again as with the fires of his youth; 'I do not repent, I shall never repent,—nor did I summon thee hither that thou shouldst seek to stir me to any repentance.—Nay! more than mine own soul I love her,—unutterably, unswervingly, everlastingly! Aye! greater a thousand fold is my love of her than is thy hope of heaven, thy dread of death, thy fear of hell.—Repent—beyond all time shall I love her, through eternity of eternities,—aye! as thou wouldst say, even por los siglos de los siglos.'
Kneeling devoutly, the confessor covered his face with his hands, and prayed even as he had never prayed before. When he lifted his eyes again, lo! the soul had passed away unshriven;—but there was such a smile upon the dead face that the priest marveled, and murmured, with his lips: 'Surely he hath found Her at last!'—Faintly, with the coming of the dawn, a warm south wind moved the curtains, and bare into the chamber rich scent of magnolia and of jessamine and of those fair blossoms whose odor evoketh beloved memory of long-dead bridal-mornings,—until it seemed that a weird sweet Presence invisible had entered, all silently, and stood there even as a Watcher standeth. And all the East brightened;—and, touched by the yellow magic of the sun, the vapors above the place of his rising formed themselves into a Fountain of Gold.
[A NAME IN THE PLAZA]
June 3, 18—