A voice came ringing down the way: "Room! room for the Torch-bearer!
room for the keeper of the gates of To-morrow! room!"
"Ah! yes," I said. "It is he, the great sage, who has lightened the
world-shadows this many a year. Who should bear the torch but he?"
I looked, and the sage passed, his arms folded on his breast, his calm
eyes bent forward, seeing many things: but no torch was in his hand.
And still the cry came ringing down the world's way: "Room for the
Torch-bearer! make way! make way for the keeper of the gates of
To-morrow!"
"Ah!" I said. "It will be the mighty leader, then; he who so long has
marshalled our hearts, and led us whithersoever he would with a wave of
his hand. Hail to him, hail to the Master of Armies!"
But as I looked, the Master passed, and his truncheon hung low by his
side, and his eyes looked downward, remembering; and no torch was in his
hand.
Yet still, as I marvelled, came that great cry ringing down the world's
way, and now it sounded loud in my ears.
"Room! room! make way, give place! the Torch-bearer comes. Make way for
the keeper of the gates of God!"
And once more I looked.
Ah! bare and dusty were her feet, the little woman; and she went bowed,
and stumbled on the rough stones, for the great torch hung heavy in her
hand, and heavy the babe on her arm: but he sat there as on a throne,
and laughed and leaped as he sat, and clutched the living torch and
shook it, flinging the blaze abroad, and the world-way lightened before
him.