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Updated: May 10, 2025
Yonder, in the faint starlight glimmer, was the terrace where, as a boy, he walked of summer evenings, ardent and trustful, unspotted, untried, ignorant of doubts or passions; sheltered as yet from the world's contamination in the pure and anxious bosom of love.... The clock of the near town tolling midnight, with a clang disturbs our wanderer's reverie, and sends him onward toward his night's resting-place, through the lodge into Clavering avenue, and under the dark arcades of the rustling limes.
But the woman had observed, from the young wanderer's gait, that one of her little feet was blistered and sore, and being a woman and a mother too, she would not suffer her to go until she had washed the place and applied some simple remedy, which she did so carefully and with such a gentle hand rough-grained and hard though it was, with work that the child's heart was too full to admit of her saying more than a fervent 'God bless you! nor could she look back nor trust herself to speak, until they had left the cottage some distance behind.
I began to dread the apparition of some giant intruder, and was seriously meditating the production of a pair of pistols, when my quick glance caught the glimmer of distant lights, twinkling through some opening in the trees, and darting a beam of hope upon the wanderer's soul. My reins were instantly grasped, and my rowels were struck into the sides of my charger.
And what I saw a few minutes later brought me down abruptly from these world-wide schemes for labor. We entered a small, cheap hotel, climbed a flight of stairs and came into the narrow bedroom which was for the moment this notorious wanderer's home. A little girl about six years old lay asleep on a cot in one corner, and under the one electric light a woman sat reading a magazine.
He had neither Unorna's innate indifference to physical danger, nor the Wanderer's calm superiority to fear.
We both laughed at the queer figure at first, and passed by merrily, and went on our way; but Noll's face grew graver and graver, I remember, and by and by he would turn about, in spite of me, and go all the long way back to empty his pockets of their pennies and bits of silver into the wanderer's lap.
"What has chanced?" asked Freydisa when we stood beneath the light of the friendly stars. "I know nothing; my mind is a blackness." I told her word for word. When I had finished she said, "Give me the Wanderer's sword." I gave it to her, and she held it against the sky by the naked blade. "The hilt is a cross," she said; "but how can a man worship a cross and preach it and conquer thereby?
Like it well enough to have another piece, eh?" asked his host, when he saw that the haggard, gray look was leaving the wanderer's face, and that the appalled, dazed expression, the result of being lost in the woods, had disappeared from his eyes. "I think it's the best meat I ever tasted," answered Dol heartily. "It's so tender, and has a splendid taste." "Ha! ha!
And let us, bowing our minds smoothly and darkly, repeat with Monsieur le Curee "toujours l'enfer...." The Wanderer was almost insane when he heard the judgment of la commission. And hereupon I must pay my respects to Monsieur Pet-airs; whom I had ever liked, but whose spirit I had not, up to the night preceding The Wanderer's departure, fully appreciated.
Was not that question the very hub around which turned all his troubled reflections? Had it not been that which was forcing tears from him at the moment of the Wanderer's arrival? He runs hither and thither distracted, in broken exclamations admitting that he himself cannot forge the sword, and how should he know who can perform the miracle? The Wanderer rises from his seat beside the hearth.
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