"You must tell your friend, Mr. Reverie," said Atheist
good-humouredly, "that Mr. Cruelty says more than he means. To my mind
he is mistaken--too energetic; but his intentions are good."

"He's a staunch, dependable fellow," said Obstinate, patting down the
wide cuffs he wore.

But even at that moment a stranger softly entered the inn out of the
night. His face was of the grey of ashes, and he looked once round on
us all with a still, appalling glance that silenced the words on my
lips.

We sat without speech--Obstinate yawning, Atheist smiling lightly,
Superstition nibbling his nails, Reverie with chin drawn a little
back, Pliable bolt upright, like a green and white wand, Mistrust
blinking his little thin lids; but all with eyes fixed on this
stranger, who deemed himself, it seemed, among friends.

He turned his back on us and sipped his drink under the heedless,
deep, untroubled gaze of Mrs. Nature, and passed out softly and
harmlessly as he had come in.

Reverie stood up like a man surprised and ill at ease. He turned to
me. "I know him only by repute, by hearsay," he said with an effort.
"He is a stranger to us all, indeed, sir--to all."

Obstinate, with a very flushed face, thrust his hand into his
breeches' pocket. "Nay, sir," he said, "my purse is yet here. What
more would you have?"

At which Pliable laughed, turning to the women.

I put on my hat and followed Reverie to the door.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, "but I have no desire to stay in this house
over-night. And if you would kindly direct me to the nearest way out
of the village, I will have my horse saddled now and be off."

And then I noticed that Superstition stood in the light of the doorway
looking down on us.

"There's Christian's way," he said, as if involuntarily....

"Lodge with me to-night," Reverie answered, "and in the morning you
shall choose which way to go you will."

I thanked him heartily and turned in to find Rosinante.

The night was now fine, but moist and sultry, and misty in the
distance. It was late, too, for few candles gleamed beneath the
moonlight from the windows round about the smooth village-green. Even
as we set out, I leading Rosinante by her bridle, and Superstition on
my left hand, out of heavenly Leo a bright star wheeled, fading as it
fell. And soon high hedges hid utterly the "World's End" behind us,
out of sight and sound.

I observed when the trees had laid their burdened branches overhead,
and t