d about him. Far below
rolled the white mist over the valleys of superstition, and above him
towered the mountains. They had seemed low before; they were of an
immeasurable height now, from crown to foundation surrounded by walls of
rock, that rose tier above tier in mighty circles. Upon them played
the eternal sunshine. He uttered a wild cry. He bowed himself on to
the earth, and when he rose his face was white. In absolute silence he
walked on. He was very silent now. In those high regions the rarefied
air is hard to breathe by those born in the valleys; every breath he
drew hurt him, and the blood oozed out from the tips of his fingers.
Before the next wall of rock he began to work. The height of this seemed
infinite, and he said nothing. The sound of his tool rang night and day
upon the iron rocks into which he cut steps. Years passed over him,
yet he worked on; but the wall towered up always above him to heaven.
Sometimes he prayed that a little moss or lichen might spring up on
those bare walls to be a companion to him; but it never came.

And the years rolled on; he counted them by the steps he had cut--a few
for a year--only a few. He sang no more; he said no more, "I will do
this or that"--he only worked. And at night, when the twilight settled
down, there looked out at him from the holes and crevices in the rocks
strange wild faces.

"Stop your work, you lonely man, and speak to us," they cried.

"My salvation is in work, if I should stop but for one moment you would
creep down upon me," he replied. And they put out their long necks
further.

"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.