It was but a
sheen, a shimmer, a reflection in the water; but now I desire nothing more
on earth than to hold her."
His friend laughed.
"It was but a beam playing on the water, or the shadow of your own head.
Tomorrow you will forget her," he said.
But tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow the hunter walked alone. He
sought in the forest and in the woods, by the lakes and among the rushes,
but he could not find her. He shot no more wild fowl; what were they to
him?
"What ails him?" said his comrades.
"He is mad," said one.
"No; but he is worse," said another; "he would see that which none of us
have seen, and make himself a wonder."
"Come, let us forswear his company," said all.
So the hunter walked alone.
One night, as he wandered in the shade, very heartsore and weeping, an old
man stood before him, grander and taller than the sons of men.
"Who are you?" asked the hunter.
"I am Wisdom," answered the old man; "but some men call me Knowledge. All
my life I have grown in these valleys; but no man sees me till he has
sorrowed much. The eyes must be washed with tears that are to behold me;
and, according as a man has suffered, I speak."
And the hunter cried:
"Oh, you who have lived here so long, tell me, what is that great wild bird
I have seen sailing in the blue? They would have me believe she is a
dream; the shadow of my own head."
The old man smiled.
"Her name is Truth. He who has once seen her never rests again.
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