get food. But he did not know Finnian. The great abbot sat down
on a spot just beyond the door, and composed himself to all that
might follow from his action. He bent his gaze on the ground
between his feet, and entered into a meditation from which he
would Only be released by admission or death.

The first day passed quietly.

Often the gentleman would send a servitor to spy if that deserter
of the gods was still before his door, and each time the servant
replied that he was still there.

"He will be gone in the morning," said the hopeful master.

On the morrow the state of siege continued, and through that day
the servants were sent many times to observe through spy-holes.

"Go," he would say, "and find out if the worshipper of new gods
has taken himself away."

But the servants returned each time with the same information.

"The new druid is still there," they said.

All through that day no one could leave the stronghold. And the
enforced seclusion wrought on the minds of the servants, while
the cessation of all work banded them together in small groups
that whispered and discussed and disputed. Then these groups
would disperse to peep through the spy-hole at the patient,
immobile figure seated before the door, wrapped in a meditation