He had tasted nothing that day but the draught from the king's cup, and a second draught when he recovered consciousness, from the stream that flowed past the camp.

Yet he walked steadily on without pause; his head hung forward, and his arms were listless, but his feet mechanically plodded on.

He walked, indeed, by his will, and not with his sinews.

Thus, like a ghost, for there was no life in him, he traversed the shadowy forest.
The dawn came, and still he kept onwards.

As the sun rose higher, having now travelled fully twenty miles, he saw houses on the right of the trail.