“Not without me ... not without me!” said the Wise Self. But it spoke faintly, and could hardly be heard in the clamour of all the others who now all began talking at once, with the little Fun Self dancing among them and crying, “I’m the one--you all want me to rule, _really_, but you don’t know it.” And suddenly, in the midst of all this, Hazen began to see strange little shadows appearing and lurking about, somewhat slyly, and often running away, but always coming back. They were tiny and faintly outlined--less like reflections in a mirror than like reflections which had not yet found a mirror for their home. And they spoke in thin little voices which Hazen could hear, and said:-- “We’ll help you, Rich! We’ll help you, Strength! We’ll help you, Fun! Only let us be one of you and we’ll help you win, and you shall reign. Here are Envy Self and Lying Self and Hate Self and Cruel Self--we’ll help, if you’ll let us in!” And when he heard this, Hazen suddenly called out, with all his might:-- “Stop!” he cried, “I’m the ruler here! I’m Hazen!” And of course he was the ruler--because it was the inside of his own head. Instantly there was complete silence there, as when a bell is suddenly struck in the midst of whisperings. And all the Selves shrank back. “Hazen!” they said, “we didn’t know you were listening. You be king. We’ll help--we’ll help.” “As long as I live,” said little Hazen then, “not one of you shall rule in here without me. I shall want many of you to help me, but only as much as I tell you to, and no more. I’m only a furnace boy, but I tell you that I am king of the inside of my own head, and I’m going to rule here and nobody else!” Then, nearer than any of the rest--and he could not tell just where it came from, but he knew how near it was--another voice spoke to him. And somewhat it was like the Thought that had spoken to him in the king’s kitchen and bidden him go up to the king’s library--but yet it was nearer than that had been. “Bravely done, Hazen,” it said. “Be king--be king, even as you have said!” With the voice came everywhere sweet music, sounding all about Hazen and in him and through him; and everywhere was air of dreams--he could hardly tell whether he was watching these or was really among them. There were sweet voices, dim figures, gestures of dancing, soft colours, lights, wavy, wonderful lines, little stars suddenly appearing, flowers, kindly faces, and then one face--the exquisite, watching face of the Princess Vista at the window, with her hair partly brushed ... and then darkness.... ... When he woke, it was early morning. The sun was pricking through the leaves of the forest, the birds were singing so sweetly and swiftly that it was as if their notes overlapped and made one sound on which everything was threaded like curious and beautiful beads on a silver cord. The old man was gone; and before Hazen, the way, empty and green, led on with promise of surprise.