"Great Lady, be pitiful to the blind eyes and give them light."

And instantly I knew. 0 blind - blind! Was the unhappy King of
the story duller of heart than I? And shame possessed me. Here
was the chrysoberyl that all day hides its secret in deeps of
lucid green but when the night comes flames with its fiery
ecstasy of crimson to the moon, and I - I had been complacently
considering whether I might not blunt my own spiritual instinct
by companionship with her, while she had been my guide, as
infinitely beyond me in insight as she was in all things
beautiful. I could have kissed her feet in my deep repentance.
True it is that the gateway of the high places is reverence and
he who cannot bow his head shall receive no crown. I saw that my
long travel in search of knowledge would have been utterly vain
if I had not learnt that lesson there and then. In those moments
of silence I learnt it once and for ever.

She stood by me breathing the liquid morning air, her face turned
upon the eternal snows. I caught her hand in a recognition that
might have ended years of parting, and its warm youth vibrated in
mine, the foretaste of all understanding, all unions, of love
that asks nothing, that fears nothing, that has no petition to
make. She raised her eyes to mine and her tears were a rainbow of
hope. So we stood in silence that was more than any words, and
the golden moments went by. I knew her now for what she was, one
of whom it might have been written;

"I come from where night falls clearer
Than your morning sun can rise;
From an earth that to heaven draws nearer