"What art thou, O Spirit?" he said.
"I am thy Sleep, Colum."
"And is it peace?"
"It is peace."
"What wouldst thou?"
"I have wisdom. Thy mind and thy soul were closed. I could not give what I brought. I brought wisdom."
"Give it."
"Behold!"
And Colum, sitting upon the strewed fern that was his bed, rubbed his eyes that were heavy with weariness and fasting and long prayer. He could not see his Sleep now. It was gone as smoke that is licked up by the wind....
For three days thereafter Colum fasted, save for a handful of meal at dawn, a piece of rye-bread at noon, and a mouthful of dulse and spring-water at sun-down. On the night of the third day, Oran and Keir came to him in his cell. Colum was on his knees lost in prayer. No sound was there, save the faint whispered muttering of his lips and on the plastered wall the weary buzzing of a fly.