The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 21

“Where are you now?” asked the virtuous person. “And yet this shakes not me! Great is the truth, and shall prevail!”

“The devil fly away with that peacock!” said the priest; and he was downcast for a mile or two.

But presently they came to a shrine, where a Fakeer performed miracles.

“Ah!” said the priest, “here are the true grounds of faith. The peacock was but an adminicle. This is the base of our religion.” And he beat upon his breast, and groaned like one with colic.

“Now to me,” said the virtuous person, “all this is as little to the purpose as the peacock. I believe because I see the right is great and must prevail; and this Fakeer might carry on with his conjuring tricks till doomsday, and it would not play bluff upon a man like me.”

Now at this the Fakeer was so much incensed that his hand trembled; and, lo! in the midst of a miracle the cards fell from up his sleeve.

“Where are you now?” asked the virtuous person. “And yet it shakes not me!”

“The devil fly away with the Fakeer!” cried the priest. “I really do not see the good of going on with this pilgrimage.”

“Cheer up!” cried the virtuous person. “Great is the right, and shall prevail!”

“If you are quite sure it will prevail,” says the priest.

“I pledge my word for that,” said the virtuous person.

So the other began to go on again with a better heart.

At last one came running, and told them all was lost: that the powers of darkness had besieged the Heavenly Mansions, that Odin was to die, and evil triumph.

“I have been grossly deceived,” cried the virtuous person.

“All is lost now,” said the priest.

“I wonder if it is too late to make it up with the devil?” said the virtuous person.

“O, I hope not,” said the priest. “And at any rate we can but try. – But what are you doing with your axe?” says he to the rover.

“I am off to die with Odin,” said the rover.

XVIII

THE TOUCHSTONE

The King was a man that stood well before the world; his smile was sweet as clover, but his soul withinsides was as little as a pea. He had two sons; and the younger son was a boy after his heart, but the elder was one whom he feared. It befell one morning that the drum sounded in the dun before it was yet day; and the King rode with his two sons, and a brave array behind them. They rode two hours, and came to the foot of a brown mountain that was very steep.

“Where do we ride?” said the elder son.

“Across this brown mountain,” said the King, and smiled to himself.

“My father knows what he is doing,” said the younger son.

And they rode two hours more, and came to the sides of a black river that was wondrous deep.

“And where do we ride?” asked the elder son.

“Over this black river,” said the King, and smiled to himself.

“My father knows what he is doing,” said the younger son.

And they rode all that day, and about the time of the sunsetting came to the side of a lake, where was a great dun.

“It is here we ride,” said the King; “to a King’s house, and a priest’s, and a house where you will learn much.”

At the gates of the dun, the King who was a priest met them; and he was a grave man, and beside him stood his daughter, and she was as fair as the morn, and one that smiled and looked down.

“These are my two sons,” said the first King.

“And here is my daughter,” said the King who was a priest.

“She is a wonderful fine maid,” said the first King, “and I like her manner of smiling.”

“They are wonderful well-grown lads,” said the second, “and I like their gravity.”

And then the two Kings looked at each other, and said, “The thing may come about.”

And in the meanwhile the two lads looked upon the maid, and the one grew pale and the other red; and the maid looked upon the ground smiling.

“Here is the maid that I shall marry,” said the elder. “For I think she smiled upon me.”

But the younger plucked his father by the sleeve. “Father,” said he, “a word in your ear. If I find favour in your sight, might not I wed this maid, for I think she smiles upon me?”

“A word in yours,” said the King his father. “Waiting is good hunting, and when the teeth are shut the tongue is at home.”

Now they were come into the dun, and feasted; and this was a great house, so that the lads were astonished; and the King that was a priest sat at the end of the board and was silent, so that the lads were filled with reverence; and the maid served them smiling with downcast eyes, so that their hearts were enlarged.

Before it was day, the elder son arose, and he found the maid at her weaving, for she was a diligent girl. “Maid,” quoth he, “I would fain marry you.”

“You must speak with my father,” said she, and she looked upon the ground smiling, and became like the rose.

“Her heart is with me,” said the elder son, and he went down to the lake and sang.

A little while after came the younger son. “Maid,” quoth he, “if our fathers were agreed, I would like well to marry you.”

“You can speak to my father,” said she; and looked upon the ground, and smiled and grew like the rose.

“She is a dutiful daughter,” said the younger son, “she will make an obedient wife.” And then he thought, “What shall I do?” and he remembered the King her father was a priest; so he went into the temple, and sacrificed a weasel and a hare.

Presently the news got about; and the two lads and the first King were called into the presence of the King who was a priest, where he sat upon the high seat.

“Little I reck of gear,” said the King who was a priest, “and little of power. For we live here among the shadow of things, and the heart is sick of seeing them. And we stay here in the wind like raiment drying, and the heart is weary of the wind. But one thing I love, and that is truth; and for one thing will I give my daughter, and that is the trial stone. For in the light of that stone the seeming goes, and the being shows, and all things besides are worthless. Therefore, lads, if ye would wed my daughter, out foot, and bring me the stone of touch, for that is the price of her.”

“A word in your ear,” said the younger son to his father. “I think we do very well without this stone.”