At the clumsy work they will laugh; when the stones roll they will curse me.

But they will mount, and on my work; they will climb, and by my stair! They will find her, and through me! And no man liveth to himself and no man dieth to himself.' "The tears rolled from beneath the shrivelled eyelids.

If Truth had appeared above him in the clouds now he could not have seen her, the mist of death was in his eyes.
"'My soul hears their glad step coming,' he said; 'and they shall mount! they shall mount!' He raised his shrivelled hand to his eyes.
"Then slowly from the white sky above, through the still air, came something falling, falling, falling.

Softly it fluttered down, and dropped on to the breast of the dying man.

He felt it with his hands.