"Oh no, no, no! You must stay. I did not mean to speak so soon as this, but I must tell you now. I have great plans for you--a fine work--a whole future. Come: sit on this bench a moment, let me talk to you in earnest. O you cannot possibly be allowed to go at once. Do you not realize the deep seriousness that lies beneath all my mannerisms? Do you think that it was to satisfy a traveller's curiosity that I showed you that poor, miserable madman seated on his throne?" "I do not know why you showed me the King or why you ever disturbed my life or why you ever do anything you do. But as for work, I prefer to find it for myself. And without wishing to offend you, I want to leave this place. I do not want to be involved in your mysterious schemes." Norman spoke stiffly. The old man alarmed him. "I will thicken the mysteries round your head like clouds before I permit you to leave Alsander, Norman Price." "Then it _is_ you," said Norman, startled at the sound of his name. "You are the old fellow who bought the tin of Menodoron off me months ago at Blaindon. You are the tramp who sent me to Alsander. And now you have got me to Alsander you want to drive me to perdition. But I am not going to have my life upset by you any more." And Norman rose from the bench and confronted the old man with folded arms. "Indeed, are you not?" was the reply. "Come, I promise you a rare adventure." "What adventure?" "I'm not going to spoil the first chapter of the story by looking up the last page. Trust and obey me as you trusted and obeyed me before--the greybeard with the blue eyes. Did my advice turn out so badly? Do you presume to tell me that you are sorry I drove you to Alsander?" "Oh, as for that, I've had a glorious journey. But the time has come for me to go. I have no money left. And I have personal reasons." "I know, I know." The old man tapped with his stick. "Some pretty wench, is that the matter? Has it come to this so soon?" "You have guessed rightly." "Foolish boy. Is such a game worth your pursuing--you with a mind! Not to mention that it's poor sport hunting doves. There's but one way for such as you with a maid. Try the intellect first--then ask the heart. Love's ways are folded in the mind. Second-rate poets may walk in their gardens prelassing up and down, singing you songs of the scholar that loved a farmer's girl. But you and I are wise enough to know love from lust, Norman Price. Lust has her whims, even her selections--that I grant you: but shall she delude us into taking her for Love?" "Lust is a great Goddess as well as Love." "It may be; but she is a great foe of reasonable men. And Love comprises all her power and many other powers besides. But, believe me, your difficulty is not a disaster, and tact can meet it, and I swear you will learn what love means before you leave Alsander."