and they taught that if it should ever again be forgotten and
left unvisited the river would fail again and desolation
return. So every day, from the gardens and orchards and the
streets of the city, men and women and children have gone up
the mountain-path with singing, to rejoice beside the spring
from which the river flows and to remember the one who opened it.
We call it the River Carita. And the name of the city is no more
Ablis, but Saloma, which is Peace. And the name of him who died
to find the Source for us is so dear that we speak it only when
we pray.

"But there are many things yet to learn about our city,
and some that seem dark and cast a shadow on my thoughts.
Therefore, my son, I bid you to be my guest, for there is a
room in my house for the stranger; and to-morrow and on the
following days you shall see how life goes with us, and read,
if you can, the secret of the city."

That night I slept well, as one who has heard a pleasant
tale, with the murmur of running water woven through my
dreams; and the next day I went out early into the streets,
for I was curious to see the manner of the visitation of the
Source.

Already the people were coming forth and turning their
steps upward in the mountain-path beside the river. Some of
them went alone, swiftly and in silence; others were in groups
of two or three, talking as they went; others were in larger
companies, and they sang together very gladly and sweetly.
But there were many people who remained working