"Look down into the crevice at your feet," they said. "See what lie there-
-white bones! As brave and strong a man as you climbed to these rocks."
And he looked up. He saw there was no use in striving; he would never hold
Truth, never see her, never find her. So he lay down here, for he was very
tired. He went to sleep forever. He put himself to sleep. Sleep is very
tranquil. You are not lonely when you are asleep, neither do your hands
ache, nor your heart. And the hunter laughed between his teeth.
"Have I torn from my heart all that was dearest; have I wandered alone in
the land of night; have I resisted temptation; have I dwelt where the voice
of my kind is never heard, and laboured alone, to lie down and be food for
you, ye harpies?"
He laughed fiercely; and the Echoes of Despair slunk away, for the laugh of
a brave, strong heart is as a death blow to them.
Nevertheless they crept out again and looked at him.
"Do you know that your hair is white?" they said, "that your hands begin to
tremble like a child's? Do you see that the point of your shuttle is
gone?--it is cracked already. If you should ever climb this stair," they
said, "it will be your last. You will never climb another."
And he answered, "I know it!" and worked on.
The old, thin hands cut the stones ill and jaggedly, for the fingers were
stiff and bent. The beauty and the strength of the man was gone.
At last, an old, wizened, shrunken face looked out above the rocks.
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