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The hermit rose from his knees; the King knocked. A deep voice
responded--
"Enter!--but leave sin behind, for the ground whereon thou shalt
stand is holy!"
The King entered, and paused. The hermit turned a pair of
gleaming, unrestful eyes upon him, and said--
"Who art thou?"
"I am the King," came the answer, with placid simplicity.
"Welcome, King!" cried the hermit, with enthusiasm. Then,
bustling about with feverish activity, and constantly saying,
"Welcome, welcome," he arranged his bench, seated the King on it,
by the hearth, threw some faggots on the fire, and finally fell to
pacing the floor with a nervous stride.
"Welcome! Many have sought sanctuary here, but they were not
worthy, and were turned away. But a King who casts his crown
away, and despises the vain splendours of his office, and clothes
his body in rags, to devote his life to holiness and the
mortification of the flesh--he is worthy, he is welcome!--here
shall he abide all his days till death come." The King hastened
to interrupt and explain, but the hermit paid no attention to him-
-did not even hear him, apparently, but went right on with his
talk, with a raised voice and a growing energy. "And thou shalt
be at peace here. None shall find out thy refuge to disquiet thee
with supplications to return to that empty and foolish life which
God hath moved thee to abandon. Thou shalt pray here; thou shalt
study the Book; thou shalt meditate upon the follies and delusions
of this world, and upon the sublimities of the world to come; thou
shalt feed upon crusts and herbs, and scourge thy body with whips,
daily, to the purifying of thy soul. Thou shalt wear a hair shirt
next thy skin; thou shalt drink water only; and thou shalt be at
peace; yes, wholly at peace; for whoso comes to seek thee shall go
his way again, baffled; he shall not find thee, he shall not
molest thee."
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