METROPOLIS He walked and walked in smouldering weariness. The way would never. never come to an end. He did not know where he was walking. He heard the tramp of those who were walking with him like the sound of perpetually falling water. She lias called! he thought. Who is that: she, whose voice is so powerful that these men, exhausted to death by utter weari;ness, voluntarily throw off sleep, which is the sweetest thing of all to the weary-to follow her when her voice calls? It can't be very much fmother to the centre of the earth .•• Still deeper-still deeper down? No longer any light round about, only, here and there. twinkling pocket torches. in men's hands. At last, in the far distance, a dull shimmer. Have we wandered so far to walk towards the sun, thought Freder, and does the sun dwell in the bowels of the earth? The procession came to a standstill. Freder stopped too. He staggered against the'dry, cool stones. Where are we, he thought-in a cave? If the sun dwells here, then she can't be at home now.... I am afraid we have come in vain. . . . Let us turn back, brother . . . Let us sleep.... He slid along the wall, fen on his knees, leant his head against the stone.... how smoothJt was. The murmur of human voices was around him, like the rustling of trees, moved by the wind.... He smiled peacefully. It's wonderful to he tired. . . Then a voice-a voice began to speak. ... Oh-sweet voice, thought Freder dreamily. Tender beloved voice, your voice, Virgin-motherl I have fallen asleep. . . . Yes, I am dreamingl r am dreaming of your voice, helovedl But a slight pain at his temple made him think: I am leaning my head on stone I am conscious of the Cfoldness which comes out of the stone I feel coldness under my knees.... so I am not sleeping-I am only dreaming.... suppose it is not a dream ... ? Suppose it is reality ... ? With an exertion of will which brought a groan from him he forced open his eyes and looked about him.
63
