And still muttering, he approached the King and said impressively-- "'Sh! I will tell you a secret!" He bent down to impart it, but checked himself, and assumed a listening attitude.

After a moment or two he went on tiptoe to the window-opening, put his head out, and peered around in the gloaming, then came tiptoeing back again, put his face close down to the King's, and whispered-- "I am an archangel!" The King started violently, and said to himself, "Would God I were with the outlaws again; for lo, now am I the prisoner of a madman!" His apprehensions were heightened, and they showed plainly in his face.

In a low excited voice the hermit continued-- "I see you feel my atmosphere! There's awe in your face! None may be in this atmosphere and not be thus affected; for it is the very atmosphere of heaven.

I go thither and return, in the twinkling of an eye.

I was made an archangel on this very spot, it is five years ago, by angels sent from heaven to confer that awful dignity.