My eager hands press emptiness to my heart, and it bruises my breast.

Tagore.

---

Feeling weak and completely overcome by so many conflicting emotions, Eric now began slowly to descend from the mighty height, with an intense and overpowering desire for rest and food.

He was entirely spent, knowing that he could not go much farther unless he found help in his need. This side of the mountain was much less steep than the other; it led down by soft green inclines to the happy land he saw calling to him from below.

Snow and winter, rocks and wilderness were now a thing of the past; this was quite another world, smiling and at peace.

With stumbling feet he dragged himself along.

All zest of having won was wiped out and gone. He only felt an aching longing for the little companion who had abandoned him in the hour of attainment.

Was this for ever the way of the weary earth? Were all victories so sad? He had also an unceasing desire for the voice of his old friend the hermit, knowing that he would have been able to explain what was but dark mystery to his searching mind.

He had the sensation of being completely forsaken and useless, a weary, weary stranger who had no home in this world. As he was pondering, sadly discouraged, both body and mind overwrought with fatigue, he saw the wings of the falcon waving before him, beckoning to him like some trusted friend; and this, at least, gave him a feeling of not being entirely forgotten.

So on he plodded, each limb stiff and painful, his unhealed wounds throbbing like tormented hearts, the hand at his side empty and lonely, missing the confiding touch of the childish fingers.

Heavy with misery, his head sunk on his breast, he followed the bird with faltering step, mechanically climbing always farther down, but a poor ghost of his former self, looking neither to the right nor to the left, for once quite irresponsive to all the beauty around him. He knew not how he advanced, all had become blank and colourless. As the day drew to an end he came to a wide mountain-meadow where a flock of sheep was peacefully grazing.

Before he could realize what was happening he was suddenly attacked on all sides by savage shaggy dogs that barked furiously, showing their teeth, jumping at him, and tearing at his ragged clothes.

Eric was much too tired to oppose any resistance, and no doubt it would have gone badly with him had not a shrill whistle unexpectedly made the dogs stand still, all attention, their ears pointed, listening.

A heavy stick was now flung in their midst scattering them on all sides, so that they turned and ran yelping after the peaceful sheep, masking their discomfiture by wildly scampering round the flock.

Then a quite young boy came running towards where Eric stood in dejected misery, his strength all spent, incapable of moving another step.

The shepherd youth, seeing how sorry was the plight of this stranger, went quickly up to him, and laying a strong arm round his waist asked if he could be of any help.

Eric was unable to answer; he felt the earth yielding beneath his feet; so he simply laid his head on this sturdy peasant's shoulder and let himself be led away, he knew not whither.

It was long before he came back to the knowledge of his surroundings. He must have lain in a deep swoon; but after a time he felt his head being lifted with rough kindness, whilst a bowl of warm milk was held to his parched lips. He drank in great gulps like one utterly famished; drank and drank till not a drop was left. Through his tired brain shot the thought, that hit him like an aching blow, if only his little companion were there to share this life-giving draught; then he sank back with closed eyes, still too weak to care where he was, indifferent if he was to live or die, all his nature one crying need of repose.

He slept many hours; indeed, so deep was his slumber that after a time the shepherd came to where he lay, anxiously putting his hand upon the sleeper's heart, afraid of finding it silent beneath his touch.

But he felt its regular beating against the tips of his fingers; so he left Eric where he had laid him within the humble hut and went out to his flock, leaning upon his long stick, his chin resting on his hands, looking over the mountains that were gradually fading into the shades of night. Here it was already summer, the grass grew thick and green; the cold and frost had been left up there upon the frowning heights; indeed it was a smiling contrast.

Eric slept all that night and through the following day; darkness was again spreading over the world when at last he woke.

He sat up, looking about him, trying with his numbed brain to grasp his whereabouts. The door of the hut stood wide open and close before it a big fire had been lit.

Its crackling reminded Eric, with a pang, of the great blaze that had saved him and the little maid from almost certain death. He saw again the dear soft lips smiling at him from over the jumping flames, remembered how sunken had been her eyes, and with a groan he turned his face to the wall.

But he could not keep still very long; a mighty hunger was gnawing at his vitals, he was in absolute need of finding food; so he rose stiffly from his couch, stretching his aching limbs as he went to the door to look out.

There in the flickering light of the fire sat the shepherd, a beautiful boy with large brown eyes and dark hair hanging to his shoulders, a high fur cap on his head with a flower behind his ear.

He was dressed in a white shirt and trousers, with linen bands wound round his legs; on his feet he wore sandal-like shoes kept in place by leathern thongs.

About his waist was a broad leather belt within which a flute and a dagger had been stuck, and over his back hung a coat of shaggy sheep-skin. Chin in hand the peasant sat staring with dreamy content into the flames. In a circle around him lay his dogs, their heads resting on their paws, their unkempt coats the colour of earth and autumn-leaves. Only one enormous brute was white, which kept staring at his master with watchful eyes, whilst the others slumbered and snored. It was a peaceful sight; the stars coming out one by one, and not far off the flock lay, huddled together in attitudes of repose.

Eric had moved so noiselessly that even the dogs had not heard his approach, but now as he ventured out of the hut they immediately were all upon him snarling and gnashing their teeth. The shepherd jumped to his feet and came quickly to where Eric stood with a joyful exclamation of greeting; but his guest fixed him with hollow eyes not able to utter a word.

"I know what thou needest," cried the boy, and leading Eric back into the hut he took from a chest two earthenware dishes, one of which was filled with thick creamy cheese.

"Eat," said the youth, "it will do thee good; but then I want thee to talk, for lonely forsooth are these hills; I want to hear the sound of thy voice. I live here in utmost solitude many months of the year: I guard my sheep and make this cheese. I play to the stars and sing to the sun, but they are too far above and care not to talk to me: I want to hear of thy wanderings and why thou lookest so sad. Tell me, I pray, didst thou verily come from the other side?"

Eric seized the bowl with a hasty gesture, and greedily consumed the tasty food, feeling as he ate how new strength began gradually to course through his veins. Never had he been so hungry, and this simple fare was in truth the very best dish he had ever eaten in his life!

Gratefully he looked at the young peasant, and at last he spoke:

"I cannot thank thee enough for thy spontaneous hospitality at a moment when without thy help I would surely have died of exhaustion. Thou wast sent me from God, as a sign that in His mercy He desireth me to continue my road. I have come from far, so far that to me it seems as if I had been wandering all my life."

He turned his trustful eyes to the youth, and with the smile which made him dear to every man's heart, he continued:

"Once, it may be years ago, for I have no more count of time, I lived in the palace of a king."

"Oh!" cried the boy, "why didst thou go?"

"Because," answered Eric, "I am seeking for a face which I cannot find—a face that I see in my dreams; so I had to leave all that rich ease and comfort, all that had sweetened my days, and always am I searching and still may have to wander many a mile."

The shepherd stared at him in growing astonishment, almost afraid that his strange guest might be crazy.

"It seems to me," he said, "that there are many faces on this earth; and why must thou journey so far looking for what is so easy to find? Why didst thou leave the king's palace? Forsooth, I would have remained and lived in joy and plenty;" and merrily he laughed, showing two rows of splendid white teeth.

Eric did not smile but replied:

"Ah! thou dost not understand. Dearly did I love my kingly master; and I grieve that I could not listen to his bidding. But there is something within each of us that when the time comes calls with insistent voice, and then we must leave all and follow. I am but a foolish youth, but this I have learnt: we cannot choose our lives nor in what way we desire to live them; some power there is stronger than our human will that carries us forward upon a road we do not know. I had but a short while ago a venerable master, and these were his words: 'That each man runs after the same thing, although each calls it by a different name.' The master I loved said the name he had found for it was Happiness, but that none of us realize when we have it in our hands. Why he said this I do not know. Dearly did I love to hear him talk, but not always did I grasp the meaning of his words."

"Happiness!" queried the peasant boy; "happiness! It soundeth sweet to the ear; dost thou think that thou shalt find it at the end of the way?"

Eric looked out into the flames of the fire before he slowly replied:

"The master said that we could grasp but the shadow, that the thing itself was God's. Deeply have I pondered over the sense of this saying, and this is what I have found in my mind: God hath not time for each man's clamouring, so He has strewn over the world things that shine and things that lie in the shadow; those that shine dazzle the eye and give pleasure, and those in the dark awake a longing to know, and thus God leads each man forward to search for himself, each according to his desire. But the wise man said that few reach it in the end, and when they do they seldom may keep it long. Ah! but I wish I knew! My heart is so full of longing, and yet I feel that some part of it will never be filled!"

But the peasant boy wanted to hear of other things; to him this talk was but a waste of time.

"Tell me, hast thou really climbed over this barrier of mountains; and how is it thou didst not perish on the way?"

Gundian took his sword between both hands, and looked at it with tears in his eyes:

"This sword kept me from death when I thought my last hour had come, and always, when all hope seemed at an end, something there was that saved me in my bitterest need.

"The old man of the hills believed in my power to win, and then ..."—Eric's voice trembled as he spoke—"I had at my side a sweet little soul that providentially had been given into my care; and a curious thing have I learnt: we can do for others what we cannot do for ourselves. Many a time would I have given in and died, had not the soft hand of the child kept hold on my life by the desire I felt that it should not perish!"

And then, his hands folded over the hilt of his sword, dreamily gazing afar off, Eric related, with many words, all he had seen and done.

The eyes of the lonely rustic hung, with ever growing interest, upon the face of his wonderful companion, and many a time did a loud exclamation either of joy or fear break from his lips; and when Eric told of the vision of angels, the boy started to his feet, hands joined in an ecstasy of delight.

"Thou didst see the heavenly hosts! Oh, tell me! Tell me! Were they indeed so fair? were their wings all shining and bright? had they crowns on their heads? And were their robes of snowy white? didst thou hear the sound of their voices? did they come quite near to thee? Oh! speak, I pray!"

Eric smiled very sadly.

"They brought peace to my soul at a moment when I thought my heart would break"; and within his mind our wanderer saw the face of his little friend smiling down upon him with lips that a breath of Heaven had already kissed.

"And now," asked the youth, "where art thou going? Or wilt thou remain with me? I am very forsaken up here on this far-off meadow. But dost know, it is said that no human foot can cross those mountains that thou hast scaled; it is said that amongst those lonely heights there is eternal snow and ice, and that it is always winter there when summer smiles on us here."

"Indeed it was cold; but what has crushed my joy is that it was not given me to save the child that Fate confided to my care; and this thou must know: that at the very instant I thought I had won, the Hand of God took from me what would have made my victory sweet. Indeed I reached the highest peak, and looked down upon the whole of the world beneath ... but ... well, I cannot explain—because I am too unlearned.

"I fear that I may not yet understand—I know not if thus it is with all we touch; the master I loved would have told me for sure if there is a hidden explanation I cannot grasp.

"He said that all our tears and hopes were needed for the making of a single whole—maybe my despair, at that moment which was loss and victory all in one, belongs also to some link of the chain. Alas! he is gone, to come no more, and I must grope alone in the dark to find the meaning of the many questions that weigh down my heart.

"But thou must tell me now what is that sunny country I saw beneath me when I was yonder, so near the skies? It was like a land all peace and beauty, sending from below to where I stood a message of hope and promise, luring me towards its fertile plains."

"It is my country," said the peasant. "I know not if it is full of beauty and promise, but I know that I love the village in which I live, that dear to me is the small cottage where my mother sits and spins, the old well from which the girls fetch water at the hour when the sun goes down. I love the great plain where the corn waves in the heat of the summer, and the long roads that are straight and dusty, upon which the carts are always rumbling never in a hurry to reach the end.

"It is a good country; and on feast days we dance in the villages, and the girls wear skirts of many colours. But from the time when the snow has melted I come to these lonely hills with my flocks, and here I quietly remain—as sole companions my dogs, and occasionally the visit of a shepherd like myself or that of a wandering monk—till the cold blasts of autumn drive me back to the plains.

"I do not mind the solitude—I have my flute, and the dear songs of my country; and we love not overmuch to live in a hurry, or to move about with busy hands.

"My mother weaves and spins, and my sisters embroider strange designs on the shirts they will wear on the day of their marriage. Oh, indeed I love this country of mine!"

"Tell me more," begged Eric. "I love to hear thee talk. I feel then the peace of thy plains steal over my weary body that has come from so far."

"There is not much to tell," answered the boy. "Our cottages are small and are covered with shaggy roofs of thatch and maize. Large sunflowers look in at the tiny windows, and when a stranger all hot and tired comes along the road the dogs rush out from every door and the air is filled with their barking and noise.

"At the fall of night the herds come home raising clouds of dust as they pass. Each one knows the corner where it dwells, and stops of its own accord at its own gate, while the small boys run about bare-foot clacking their whips. In winter everything is deeply enveloped with snow, which lies like a cover of feathers, keeping the fields warm from the frost, and when the sun goes to bed it lights up the sky with flaming red that spreads over the snow as well; and then black troops of crows fly across the horizon, and settle like a dark cloud upon the white immensity, flat and endless, as far as the eye can reach.

"And when spring comes the wind blows in storms and dries up the lakes made by the melting snow. Then the fields are a patchwork of black and white; timidly the little flowers push their heads through the dead leaves in the woods, and the children run out of the villages to gather them in bunches which they sell to the passers-by. Thou must remain with me and I shall tell thee more!"

But Eric explained that he must soon continue his road, for he knew not how far he still had to go:

"All roads will feel soft to my feet after the mountains I have climbed; but my heart has lost its brightness and I begin to wonder what I shall reach in the end.

"At first the gladness that filled my being found an echo in each thing I met as I went along. I used to sing and play on my flute. And then came days when all was strange and full of secret dangers I could never understand.

"Later I climbed those awful mountains; much did I find there, and much did I lose. But I no more sing as once I did."

Both boys had risen and gone to the door of the hut, where they stood, hands linked, looking out on the night; and there on the stump of a tree near by sat the beautiful falcon, and round his neck the blue diamond still blazed like a consoling star. Eric went to the bird and laid his hand on its head; the faithful creature turned his way and a bright light shone in its eyes.

"This was my trusted scout, who showed me where I should go; but I fear he will no more follow me when I go down to the plains. If thou allowest I shall still spend this night under thy roof and then go my way."

"I wish I could leave my flocks," cried the youth, "and follow thee; thy face is so fair, and never have I heard voice more sweet. I fear I shall see thee no more, for thou seemest out of a world of dreams."

Eric did not reply, but stood looking into the night; then very slowly he unfastened the golden chain he still wore round his neck, and slipped it over the head of his host.

"Keep this in token that really I have been with thee; but now let me rest on thy couch, for I must leave thee soon."

He turned back into the hut, and throwing himself upon the sacks of dry leaves that formed the shepherd's bed, he was soon fast asleep, his head buried in the folds of his cloak. The sun stood already far over the mountain tops when Eric awoke after a refreshing sleep upon the primitive resting-place.

Outside the shepherd-boy was watching his sheep, leaning on his staff in his wonted attitude.

When he saw that Eric was awake he greeted him with a happy smile, and immediately set about getting him food, and a freshly milked drink, all white and warm.

Upon Eric's bidding he led his guest to a little spring near by, where at last he could wash off all traces of his past wanderings.

His wounds had been awkwardly bound up by the kind-hearted youth on the first night, while he lay in a swoon.

Eric winced with pain when the cold water came in contact with his scarcely healed skin; but it was a glorious joy to bathe in the fresh running stream, and at last our traveller felt more like his old self.

During his ablutions his host had carried off his once so neat clothes, and when he came back to the hut he found the faithful boy sewing up the rents in the rich black stuff with a long thread and needle.

He had brushed away, as well as he could, all the spots and stains, but the velvet coat and silken hose had kept little resemblance to the neat apparel in which the King's favourite had started from the white palace of the north. Eric lay down in the grass, turning his bare back to the smiling sun-rays.

Both youths joked happily together, as the peasant sewed away with diligent fingers. And when they had no more words to say, the shepherd lifted his young quavering voice and sang long-drawn ditties, which ever had a mournful ring in their notes, full of melancholy and patient longing.

Eric felt almost happy. His recent adventures seemed far-away dreams of another life; but he knew he never would be able to forget all that he had suffered, knew that the gay thoughtless boy, who had started long ago, was for ever a thing of the past.

The falcon still sat upon the stump of the tree and watched with quiet attention these two boys of such different races, the one so fair, the other so dark, both handsome and good to look upon; but no man can know what thoughts lay behind those piercing eyes.

After a while the last stitch had been put, and the kindly youth held up the velvet coat in triumph, so that the sun shone upon it making it look quite new.

"Never have I seen stuff so soft," he exclaimed, whilst he stroked the rich worn tissue with his hand.

"And it is all silk within, silvery grey, like the rays of the moon! And thou hast given me thy golden chain! Was it indeed a gift from the northern King? And to think that thou left him and all his glory to wander all over the world in search of a face! Ah! never shall I know if thou hast found it in the end! That thought is sad to me. Forsooth, I wish I could call thee brother!"

"Call me whatever thou willst," Eric replied. "I shall think of thee when I am far; for didst thou not tend me with loving care? Didst thou not feed me when I was famished and tired? Didst thou not save me when I knew I could move no farther? No brother could have done more; and one day, perhaps, we shall meet again. What is thy name?"

"I am called Radu the shepherd, and my father possesses two fields and a cart, with oxen that are grey like the stones on the road; their horns are so long that it is difficult for them to hold their heads close together; but we are poor all the same, and that is why I tend my flocks on these mountain pastures so far from my village. But if thou dost tarry for a time in yonder plains I may meet thee yet when I return to my home; but one thing I must give thee before thou goest—thy shoes are quite beyond repair—I have a couple of new sandals meant for Sunday use; they may not be what thou art accustomed to wear, but my heart will be glad if thou wilt accept so small a gift from me. Also I must see to thy wounds. I have an ointment, made by the wisest woman of our village, that can heal any sore. Come into my lowly hut and it will be my joy to dress thee and bind up thy cruel cuts!"

Eric gladly followed his kind friend, deeply touched by so much simple hospitality, and gave himself over into the clever hands of the boy: he was soon freshly bandaged with a soothing salve spread upon his aching scars.

Then he put on his neatly patched clothes, and let his host fasten the sandals on his feet, wind the long leather thongs about his legs, and tie them firmly under the knee.

Not yet content with all he had done, the boy searched about in the painted chest, and drew from its depths a long staff, richly decorated with patterns cut out of metal and fixed upon the wood with tiny nails.

"This I have worked upon for years, inventing the most intricate designs. It has been the pleasure of my lonely hours, and I want thee to have it, because never have I loved a face as much as thine; nothing so fair has ever come my way! But don't forget Radu the shepherd! It would grieve me sore!"

Now the beautiful sword was girt round our wanderer's waist, the much-used cloak hung over his back; and then, taking the boy's present in his hand, he drew the kindly friend into his arms and held him long in a warm embrace.

When the peasant lifted his head from Eric's shoulder large hot tears were running down his cheeks.

For a last time the two boys firmly clasped hands, and then Eric tore himself away. The falcon spread its white wings and flew before him leading the way.

Several times Eric turned to look his last on the comrade who had been so kind; there he stood silhouetted against the sky, leaning as ever upon his staff, his flock around him, his dogs at his feet.

---