out:

"Way for Morven, the prophet, the prophet!"

For the people held the son of Osslah in even greater respect
than did the chiefs.

Now, since he had become of note, Morven had assumed a majesty
of air which the son of the herdsman knew not in his earlier
days; and albeit his stature was short, and his limbs halted,
yet his countenance was grave and high.

He only of the tribe wore a garment that swept the ground, and
his head was bare, and his long black hair descended to his
girdle, and rarely was change or human passion seen in his calm
aspect.

He feasted not, nor drank wine, nor was his presence frequent in
the streets.

He laughed not, neither did he smile, save when alone in the
forest--and then he laughed at the follies of his tribe.

So he walked slowly through the crowd, neither turning to the
left nor to the right, as the crowd gave way; and he supported
his steps with a staff of the knotted pine.

And when he came to the place where the chiefs were met, and the
two princes stood in the centre, he bade the people around him
proclaim silence.