The few wax tapers gave but light enough to find the way from goblet
to mouth. As for Reverie's wine, I ask no other, for it had the
poppy's scarlet, and overcame weariness so subtly I almost forgot
these were the hours of sleep we spent in waking; forgot, too, as if
of the lotus, all thought of effort and hope.
After all, thought I as I sipped, effort is the flaw that proves men
mortal; while as for hope, who would seek a seed that floats on every
wind and smothers the world with weeds that bear no fruit? It was, in
fact, fare very different from the ale and cheese of the "World's End."
"But you yourself," I said to Mr. Reverie presently; "in all the talk
at the inn you kept a very scrupulous silence--discreet enough, I own.
But now, what truly _was_ this Christian of whom we heard so much? and
why, may I ask, do his neighbours slander the dead? You yourselves,
did you ever meet with him?" I turned from one to the other of my
companions as they glanced uneasily each at each.
"Well, sir," said Reverie rather deliberately, "I have met him and
talked with him. I often think of him, in spite of myself.
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