“You lead the nations to Death,” Wilfrid said to them.  “You have depraved the earth, perverted the Word, prostituted justice.  After devouring the grass of the fields you have killed the lambs of the fold.  Do you think yourself justified because of your sores?  I will warn my brethren who have ears to hear the Voice, and they will come and drink of the spring of Living Waters which you have hidden.”

“Let us save our strength for Prayer,” said Minna.  “Wilfrid, thy mission is not that of the Prophets or the Avenger or the Messenger; we are still on the confines of the lowest sphere; let us endeavor to rise through space on the wings of Prayer.”

“Thou shalt be all my love!”

“Thou shalt be all my strength!”

“We have seen the Mysteries; we are, each to the other, the only being here below to whom Joy and Sadness are comprehensible; let us pray, therefore:  we know the Path, let us walk in it.”

“Give me thy hand,” said the Young Girl, “if we walk together, the way will be to me less hard and long.”

“With thee, with thee alone,” replied the Man, “can I cross the awful solitude without complaint.”

“Together we will go to Heaven,” she said.

The clouds gathered and formed a darksome dais.  Suddenly the pair found themselves kneeling beside a body which old David was guarding from curious eyes, resolved to bury it himself.

Beyond those walls the first summer of the nineteenth century shone forth in all its glory.  The two lovers believed they heard a Voice in the sun-rays.  They breathed a celestial essence from the new-born flowers.  Holding each other by the hand, they said, “That illimitable ocean which shines below us is but an image of what we saw above.”

“Where are you going?” asked Monsieur Becker.

“To God,” they answered.  “Come with us, father.”