The old man nodded. “I know, I know,” he said sadly. “The little Selves have been about, ruling here and ruling there. Is it not so? Sit here a little, and let us talk about it.” Then Hazen told him all that had befallen since that night when they sat together in the wood. And though his adventures seemed to Hazen very wonderful, the old man merely nodded, as if he were not hearing but only remembering. “Ay,” he said, at the last, “I have met them all--the Merry Lad, the Bookman, and all the rest, and have dwelt a space with some. And I, too, have come to the fountain in the night, and have asked what it was that I should do.” “But tell me, sir,” said Hazen, eagerly, “how was it that I was told at the fountain that there was one near in great need. Did the fountain know you? Or did my Thought? And how could that be?” “Nay, lad,” said the old man, “but always, for everyone, there is someone near in need--yet. One has only to look.” Then he talked to Hazen more about his fortune, and again the old man’s meaning was in his mere presence, so that whether he talked about the stars or the earth or the ways of men, he made Hazen know fascinating things about them all. And now Hazen listened far differently from the way that he had listened that other time when they had talked, and it was as if the words had grown, and as if they meant more than once they had meant. Now, whoever has stood for the first time in a great, empty castle knows that there is one thing that he longs to do above all other things, and this is to explore. And when the afternoon lay brooding upon the air, and slanting sun fell through the dusty lattices, Hazen asked the old man eagerly if he might wander through the rooms. “As freely,” answered the old man, willingly, “as if you were the castle’s prince.” Thus it chanced that, after all the years, Hazen, though he was far from dreaming the truth, was once more roaming through the rooms of his birthplace and treading the floors that had once echoed the step of his father, the king.