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In it--for the curtains were drawn--sat an old man,
clothed in a whitish robe, made apparently from coarse linen, that hung
loosely about him, who, I at once jumped to the conclusion, was
the shadowy figure that had stood on the bank and been addressed as
"Father." He was a wonderful-looking old man, with a snowy beard, so
long that the ends of it hung over the sides of the litter, and he had
a hooked nose, above which flashed out a pair of eyes as keen as a
snake's, while his whole countenance was instinct with a look of wise
and sardonic humour impossible to describe on paper.
"Art thou awake, stranger?" he said in a deep and low voice.
"Surely, my father," I answered courteously, feeling certain that I
should do well to conciliate this ancient Mammon of Unrighteousness.
He stroked his beautiful white beard, and smiled faintly.
"From whatever country thou camest," he said, "and by the way it must
be from one where somewhat of our language is known, they teach their
children courtesy there, my stranger son.


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