“I do not know, mother. If we had been living a thousand years earlier, I should, perhaps, set out on the high road, with pilgrim’s staff and cockle hat, and seek the way to the Holy Land of my belief, not returning home until I had cooled my feet, hot from wandering, in the Jordan, and, in the places of redemption, had prayed to the Redeemer. And, if I were not the man I am, it might come to pass that I should set out on a journey along the roads of those who walk in the shadow. I should, perhaps, sit with them in the corners of misery and learn to comprehend their groans and their curses into which a life of hell has transformed their prayers.... For, from comprehension comes love, and I am longing to love mankind, mother.... But I believe that acting is better than making pilgrimages, and that a good deed is worth more than the best of words. I believe, too, that I shall find the way to do so, for there are two standing by me, who wish to help me....” “Three, Joh....” The eyes of the son sought the gaze of the mother. “Who is the third?” “Hel....” “... Hel—?...” “Yes, child.” Joh Fredersen remained silent. She turned over the pages of her Bible, until she found what she sought. It was a letter. She took it and said, still holding it lovingly: “I received this letter from Hel before she died. She asked me to give it you, when, as she said, you had found your way home to me and to yourself....” Soundlessly moving his lips, Joh Fredersen stretched out his hand for the letter. The yellowish envelope contained but a thin sheet of paper. Upon it stood, in the handwriting of a girlish woman: “I am going to God, and do not know when you will read these lines, Joh. But I know you will read them one day, and, until you come, I shall exhaust the eternal blissfulness in praying God to forgive me for making use of two Sayings from His Holy Book, in order to give you my heart, Joh. “One is: ‘I have loved thee with an everlasting love.’ The other: ‘Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world!’ “Hel.” It took Joh Fredersen a long time before he succeeded in replacing the thin sheet of note-paper in the envelope. His eyes gazed through the open window by which his mother sat. He saw, drawing across the soft, blue sky, great, white clouds, which were like ships, laden with treasures from a far-off world. “Of what are you thinking, child?” asked his mother’s voice, with care. But Joh Fredersen gave her no answer. His heart, utterly redeemed, spoke stilly within him: “Unto the end of the world.... Unto the end of the world.” METROPOLIS This remarkable novel, the basis for the world’s greatest Science Fiction movie, has long been a rare but ardently sought-after collector’s item.