Yes, indeed, it was a small world and a barren one into which they had
forced him. But he had his thoughts, and daily as he walked in his
confined yard, they were busy with the past, weaving, weaving. What
patterns they made, and he, poor one, was sometimes afraid of them!
But still they kept on weaving, weaving.

One day, as he walked in his yard, he noticed that between two of the
stones there seemed to be something and he looked at it. With the
greatest attention he studied it, then he knelt on the rude stones and
looked and looked again. His heart beat and his hands trembled, but
yet with a touch as gentle as any one could give, he moved a grain or
two of soil and there, beneath, was something which the poor captive
cried out for joy to see--a tiny plant. As if in a new world, and
certainly as if another man, he cared daily for the tender little
companion that had come to share his loneliness; he thought of it
first in the morning and last at night. He gave it of his supply of
water and, as a father, he watched over it.

And it grew so that one day he saw that his plant must either die or
have more room. And it could not have more room unless a cobblestone
were removed. Now this could only be done with the consent of the
Emperor. Well, let us not stop to hear about the way he found, but he
did get his request to the Emperor and, after a while, what happened
do you think? That the plant was given more room? Yes, that is partly
it, and the rest is this: the prisoner himself was given more room--he
was liberated.

Just because the seed of a beautiful thing came to life in his tiny
world he found love for it and a new life, a care, _something outside
of himself_. And it brought him all.