METROPOLIS "We aTe waiting," continued the spokesman, "for someone to come, who will tell us what way we should go..• :' "And you want to be this one, Joh?" "Yes, mother," . "And will they trust in you?" "I do not know, mother. If we had been living a thousand years earlier, I should, perhaps. set out on the high road. with pilgrim's staff and cockle hat, and seek the way to the Holy Land of my belief, not returning home until I had cooled my feet, hot from wandering, in the Jordan, and, in the places of redemption, had prayed to the Redeemer. And. if I were not the man I am, it might come to pass that I should set out on a journey along the roads of those who walk in the shadow. I should, perhaps, sit with them in the comers of misery and learn to comprehend their groans and their curses into which a life of hell bas transformed their prayers.... For. from comprehension comes love. and I am longing to love mankind. mother ... But I believe that acting is better than- making pilgrimages, and that a good deed is worth more than the best of words. I believe. too, that I shall find the way to do so, for there are two standing by me, who wish to help me... :. "Three, Joh. . . ." The eyes of the son sought the gaze of the mother. "Who is the third?" "Hel. .. ." "... Hel-? ... "Yes, child. Joh Fredersen remained silent., She turned over the pages of her Bible, until she found what she sought. It was a letter. She took it and said, still holding it lovingly: "I received this letter from Hel before she died. She asked me to give it you, when, as she said. you had found your way home to me and to yourself... :. Soundlessly moving his lips. Joh Fredersen stretched out his hand for the letter. The yellowish_ envelope contained but a thin sheet of paper. Upon it stood, in the handwriting of a girlish woman: JI
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