"You have seen," said the stranger, "the Secret of the Picturesque. For now we must talk up on a higher plane."
"Damn the higher plane: tell me who you are. But there, do you think I didn't know it all the time? You can be none other but that...."
"Not a word," said his companion, cutting him dead short. "You did not know it till now, when I intended to let you know. By '_it_' I mean either the Secret of the Picturesque or what you meant by '_it_.' Besides, it's not true that I am this or am that; that depends on what I am."
"Puzzle me no longer: talk plain sense," implored Norman.
"Surely my words are plain enough. What is it you want to know?"
"I have no name, but my friends are allowed to call me the Old Man. My history is a dead secret. But if you are in earnest and willing to talk on the higher plane, I will explain to you the meaning of my remark about the Secret of the Picturesque."
"I am willing," said Norman in desperate bewilderment, and eager to hear any explanation about anything.
His guide seemed as mad as the King and needed humouring no less.
"Come to this bench then," said the Old Poet, "and I will illustrate my meaning with a fable of my own composition."
And taking a manuscript from his pocket, without waiting for a word of acquiescence from Norman, who was getting very hungry, he read as follows:
"There was a man (so majestically made that I knew him at once to be the type of Man) walking along a narrow pathway that led from the valley up towards the hills, following a stream. As he strode along two enchanting girls came flying from the South, poised on dragonfly wings; one of them had a lyre in her hand, which she played merrily, and the other an antique scroll painted over with a multitude of amusing and delicate figures. The man was obviously pleased at the arrival of these spirits; he rejoiced in their companionship (as who would not?), and they all three sang and laughed together on the way. So intent was he on their diverting frolics that while crossing a narrow bridge of planks he nearly fell over into the river, and as time went on, and the pathway began to ascend the hillside more abruptly, I wondered if he was not beginning to find their company a little tedious. For while one of them buffeted him over the eyes with her playful wings, the other flung her robe, for amusement, round his naked body, and embarrassed his movements. However, he got rid of their teasing very soon, and at a point where the path entered a dense forest and they had no room to spread their wings I saw him laugh at their discomfiture. The track grew no better upon leaving the forest, for it was cut in the side of a precipice. The two maidens flew with weary and trembling wings over the horrible gulf, or else tore their dresses and bruised their feet trying to follow over the rocks. The man was hindered by them still, for he had to help them, and to judge by his slow progress and perpetual stumbling he was no skilled mountaineer. I wondered what miracle had preserved him as I watched his perilous ascent; and finally I saw that his right hand was grasping another hand, which had no visible body.