And he beside me answered, "He cannot help her: she must help herself.
Let her struggle till she is strong."
And I cried, "At least he will not hinder her! See, he moves farther from her, and tightens the cord between them, and he drags her down."
And he answered, "He does not understand. When she moves she draws the band that binds them, and hurts him, and he moves farther from her. The day will come when he will understand, and will know what she is doing.
Let her once stagger on to her knees. In that day he will stand close to her, and look into her eyes with sympathy."
And she stretched her neck, and the drops fell from her. And the creature rose an inch from the earth and sank back.
And I cried, "Oh, she is too weak! she cannot walk! The long years have taken all her strength from her. Can she never move?"
And he answered me, "See the light in her eyes!"
And slowly the creature staggered on to its knees.
And I awoke: and all to the east and to the west stretched the barren earth, with the dry bushes on it. The ants ran up and down in the red sand, and the heat beat fiercely. I looked up through the thin branches of the tree at the blue sky overhead. I stretched myself, and I mused over the dream I had had. And I fell asleep again, with my head on my saddle. And in the fierce heat I had another dream.
I saw a desert and I saw a woman coming out of it. And she came to the bank of a dark river; and the bank was steep and high. (The banks of an African river are sometimes a hundred feet high, and consist of deep shifting sands, through which in the course of ages the river has worn its gigantic bed.) And on it an old man met her, who had a long white beard; and a stick that curled was in his hand, and on it was written Reason. And he asked her what she wanted; and she said "I am woman; and I am seeking for the land of Freedom."
And he said, "It is before you."
And she said, "I see nothing before me but a dark flowing river, and a bank steep and high, and cuttings here and there with heavy sand in them."
And he said, "And beyond that?"
She said, "I see nothing, but sometimes, when I shade my eyes with my hand, I think I see on the further bank trees and hills, and the sun shining on them!"
He said, "That is the Land of Freedom."
She said, "How am I to get there?"
He said, "There is one way, and one only. Down the banks of Labour, through the water of Suffering. There is no other."
She said, "Is there no bridge?"
He answered. "None."
She said, "Is the water deep?"
He said, "Deep."
She said, "Is the floor worn?"
He said, "It is. Your foot may slip at any time, and you may be lost."
She said, "Have any crossed already?"
He said, "Some have tried!"
She said, "Is there a track to show where the best fording is?"
He said, "It has to be made."
She shaded her eyes with her hand; and she said, "I will go."
And he said, "You must take off the clothes you wore in the desert: they are dragged down by them who go into the water so clothed."
And she threw from her gladly the mantle of Ancient-received-opinions she wore, for it was worn full of holes. And she took the girdle from her waist that she had treasured so long, and the moths flew out of it in a cloud. And he said, "Take the shoes of dependence off your feet."
And she stood there naked, but for one white garment that clung close to her.
And he said, "That you may keep. So they wear clothes in the Land of Freedom. In the water it buoys; it always swims."
And I saw on its breast was written Truth; and it was white; the sun had not often shone on it; the other clothes had covered it up. And he said, "Take this stick; hold it fast. In that day when it slips from your hand you are lost. Put it down before you; feel your way: where it cannot find a bottom do not set your foot."
And she said, "I am ready; let me go."
And he said, "No--but stay; what is that--in your breast?"
She was silent.
He said, "Open it, and let me see."
And she opened it. And against her breast was a tiny thing, who drank from it, and the yellow curls above his forehead pressed against it; and his knees were drawn up to her, and he held her breast fast with his hands.
And Reason said, "Who is he, and what is he doing here?"
And she said, "See his little wings--"
And Reason said, "Put him down."
And she said, "He is asleep, and he is drinking! I will carry him to the Land of Freedom. He has been a child so long, so long, I have carried him. In the Land of Freedom he will be a man. We will walk together there, and his great white wings will overshadow me. He has lisped one word only to me in the desert--"Pa.s.sion!" I have dreamed he might learn to say "Friendship" in that land."
And Reason said, "Put him down!"
And she said, "I will carry him so--with one arm, and with the other I will fight the water."
He said, "Lay him down on the ground. When you are in the water you will forget to fight, you will think only of him. Lay him down." He said, "He will not die. When he finds you have left him alone he will open his wings and fly. He will be in the Land of Freedom before you. Those who reach the Land of Freedom, the first hand they see stretching down the bank to help them shall be Love"s. He will be a man then, not a child.
In your breast he cannot thrive; put him down that he may grow."
And she took her bosom from his mouth, and he bit her, so that the blood ran down on to the ground. And she laid him down on the earth; and she covered her wound. And she bent and stroked his wings. And I saw the hair on her forehead turned white as snow, and she had changed from youth to age.
And she stood far off on the bank of the river. And she said, "For what do I go to this far land which no one has ever reached? Oh, I am alone!
I am utterly alone!"
And Reason, that old man, said to her, "Silence! What do you hear?"
And she listened intently, and she said, "I hear a sound of feet, a thousand times ten thousand and thousands of thousands, and they beat this way!"