to our cell, first the humblest and then the most
honored Judges of the City. They stood before us in their white togas,
and they asked:

"Are you ready to speak?"

But we shook our head, lying before them on the floor. And they
departed.

We counted each day and each night as it passed. Then, tonight, we knew
that we must escape. For tomorrow the World Council of Scholars is to
meet in our City.

It was easy to escape from the Palace of Corrective Detention. The locks
are old on the doors and there are no guards about. There is no reason
to have guards, for men have never defied the Councils so far as to
escape from whatever place they were ordered to be. Our body is healthy
and strength returns to it speedily. We lunged against the door and
it gave way. We stole through the dark passages, and through the dark
streets, and down into our tunnel.

We lit the candle and we saw that our place had not been found and
nothing had been touched. And our glass box stood before us on the cold
oven, as we had left it. What matter they now, the scars upon our back!

Tomorrow, in the full light of day, we shall take our box, and leave our
tunnel open, and walk through the streets to the Home of the Scholars.
We shall put before them the greatest gift ever offered to men. We shall
tell them the truth. We shall hand to them, as our confession, these
pages we have written. We shall join our hands to theirs, and we shall
work together, with the power of the sky, for the glory of mankind. Our
blessing upon you, our brothers! Tomorrow, you will take us back into
your fold and we shall be an outcast no longer. Tomorrow we shall be one
of you again. Tomorrow...

Chapter Seven

It is dark here in the forest. The leaves rustle over our head, black
against the last gold of the sky. The moss is soft and warm. We shall
sleep on this moss for many nights, till the beasts of the forest come
to tear our body. We have no bed now, save the moss, and no future, save
the beasts.

We are old now, yet we were young this morning, when we carried our
glass box through the streets of the City to the Home of the Scholars.
No men stopped us, for there were none about the Palace of Corrective
Detention, and the others knew nothing. No men stopped us at the gate.
We walked through the empty passages and into the great hall where the
World Council of Scholars sat in solemn meeting.

We saw nothing as we entered, save the sky in the great windows