THE RISE OF ISKANDER - Ibiblio

CHAPTER 14
14.1 The Eremite rose with the Sun; and while he was yet at matins, was joined by Iduna, refreshed
and cheerful after her unusual slumbers. After performing their devotions, her venerable host proposed
that they should go forth and enjoy the morning air. So, descending the precipitous bank of the river, he
led the way to a small glen, the bed of a tributary rivulet, now nearly exhausted. Beautiful clumps of
birch-trees and tall thin poplars, rose on each side among the rocks covered with bright mosses, and
parasitical plants of gay and various colours. One side of the glen was touched with the golden and
grateful beams of the rising sun, and the other was in deep shadow.
14.2 "Here you can enjoy nature and freedom in security;" said the Eremite, "for your enemies, if
they have not already given up their pursuit, will scarcely search this sweet solitude."
14.3 "It is indeed sweet, holy father," said Iduna; "but the captive, who has escaped from captivity,
can alone feel all its sweetness."
14.4 "It is true," said the Eremite; "I also have been a captive."
14.5 "Indeed! holy father. To the Infidels?"
14.6 "To the Infidels, gentle pilgrim."
14.7 "Have you been at Adrianople?"
14.8 "My oppressors were not the Paynim," replied the Eremite, "but they were enemies far more
dire, my own evil passions. Time was when my eye sparkled like thine, gentle pilgrim, and my heart was
not as pure."
14.9 "God is merciful," said Iduna, "and without His aid, the strongest are but shadows."
14.10 "Ever think so," replied the Eremite, "and you will deserve rather His love than His mercy.
Thirty long years have I spent in this solitude, meditating upon the past, and it is a theme yet fertile in
instruction. My hours are never heavy, and memory is to me what action is to other men."
14.11 "You have seen much, holy father?"
14.12 "And felt more. Yet you will perhaps think the result of all my experience very slight, for I can
only say unto thee, trust not in thyself."
14.13 "It is a great truth," remarked Iduna, "and leads to a higher one."
14.14 "Even so," replied the Eremite. "We are full of wisdom in old age, as in winter this river is full of
water, but the fire of youth, like the summer sun, dries up the stream."
14.15 Iduna did not reply. The Eremite attracted her attention to a patch of cresses on the opposite
bank of the stream. "Every morn I rise only to discover fresh instances of omnipotent benevolence," he
exclaimed. "Yesterday ye tasted my honey and my fish. To-day I can offer ye a fresh dainty. We will
break our fast in this pleasant glen. Rest thou here, gentle youth, and I will summon thy brother to our
meal. I fear me much he does not bear so contented a spirit as thyself."
14.16 "He is older, and has seen more," replied Iduna.
14.17 The Eremite shook his head, and leaning on his staff, returned to the cavern. Iduna remained,
seated on a mossy rock, listening to the awakening birds, and musing over the fate of Iskander. While
she was indulging in this reverie, her name was called. She looked up with a blush, and beheld Nicæus.
14.18 "How fares my gentle comrade?" inquired the Prince of Athens.
14.19 "As well as I hope you are, dear Nicæus. We have been indeed fortunate in finding so kind a
host."
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