; the hand of death is upon thee. Thy heirs believe
that thou art rich; they will kill thee and find nothing. Yet try at
least to fling away this raiment no longer in fashion; be once more as
in the days of old!--Nay, thou art dead, and by thy own deed!'

"Is not this thy story?" so I ended. "Decrepit, toothless, shivering
crone, now forgotten, going thy ways without so much as a glance from
passers-by! Why art thou still alive? What doest thou in that beggar's
garb, uncomely and desired of none? Where are thy riches?--for what were
they spent? Where are thy treasures?--what great deeds hast thou done?"

At this demand, the shriveled woman raised her bony form, flung off her
rags, and grew tall and radiant, smiling as she broke forth from the
dark chrysalid sheath. Then like a butterfly, this diaphanous creature
emerged, fair and youthful, clothed in white linen, an Indian from
creation issuing her palms. Her golden hair rippled over her shoulders,
her eyes glowed, a bright mist clung about her, a ring of gold hovered
above her head, she shook the flaming blade of a sword towards the
spaces of heaven.

"See and believe!" she cried.

And suddenly I saw, afar off, many thousands of cathedrals like the one
that I had just quitted; but these were covered with pictures and with
frescoes, and I heard them echo with entrancing music. Myriads of human
creatures flocked to these great buildings, swarming about them like
ants on an ant-heap. Some were eager to rescue books from oblivion or
to copy manuscripts, others were helping the poor, but nearly all were
studying. Up above this countless multitude rose giant statues that they
had erected in their midst, and by the gleams of a strange light from
some luminary as powerful as the sun, I read the inscriptions on the
bases of the statues--Science, History, Literature.

The light died out. Again I faced the young girl. Gradually she slipped
into the dreary sheath, into the ragged cere-cloths, and became an aged
woman again. Her familiar brought her a little dust, and she stirred it
into the ashes of her chafing-dish, for the weather was cold and stormy;
and then he lighted for her, whose palaces had been lit with thousands
of wax-tapers, a little cresset, that she might see to read her prayers
through the hours of night.

"There is no faith left in the earth!..." she said.

In such a perilous plight did I behold the fairest and the greatest, the
truest and most life-giving