He glanced sharply round and saw a little crowd of people gathered together; the words had been read from a hymn-book by a man whose whole heart had been thrown into what he read. They broke into Frithiof’s revery very strangely. Then immediately the people began to sing the well-known hymn, “The Great Physician now is near,” and the familiar tune, which had long ago penetrated to Norway, brought to Frithiof’s mind a host of old memories. Was it after all true that the problem had been solved? Was it true that in spite of suffering and sin and misery the pledge of ultimate victory had already been given? Was it true that he whose uncongenial work seemed chiefly to consist of passive endurance had yet a share in helping to bring about the final triumph of good? From the words read by the street preacher, his mind involuntarily turned to the words spoken to him a few days before by a stage singer. Donati had spoken of living the life of the crucified. He had said very little, but what he said had the marvelous power of all essentially true things. He had spoken not as a conventional utterer of platitudes, but as one man who has fought and agonized and overcome, many speak to another man who, bewildered by the confusion of the battle-field, begins to doubt his own cause. And far more than anything actually said there came to him the thought of Donati’s own life, what he had himself observed of it, and what he had heard of his story from Cecil. A wonderfully great admission was made lately by a celebrated agnostic writer when he said that, “The true Christian saint, though a rare phenomenon, is one of the most wonderful to be witnessed in the moral world.” Nor was the admission much qualified by the closing remark,—“So lofty, so pure, so attractive that he ravishes men’s souls into oblivion of the patent and general fact that he is an exception among thousands of millions of professing Christians.”