THE FOOL.
And I saw another man.
Tired and lame he dragged himself along the dusty road,
across the deserted plain under the scorching rays of the sun. He
glanced sidelong with foolish, staring eyes, a half smile, half leer
on his face; he knew not where he went, but was absorbed in
his chimerical dreams which ran constantly in the same circle.
His fool's cap was put on wrong side front, his garments were
torn in the back; a wild lynx with glowing eyes sprang upon him
from behind a rock and buried her teeth in his flesh. He
stumbled, nearly fell, but continued to drag himself along, all
the time holding on his shoulder a bag containing useless things,
which he, in his stupidity, carried wherever he went.
Before him a crevice crossed the road and a deep precipice
awaited the foolish wanderer. Then a huge crocodile with open
mouth crawled out of the precipice. And I heard the voice
say:—
"Look! This is the same man."
I felt my head whirl.
"What has he in the bag?" I inquired, not knowing
why I asked. And after a long silence the voice replied
"The four magic symbols, the sceptre, the cup, the sword
and the pentacle. The fool always carries them although
he has long since forgotten what they mean Nevertheless
they belong to him, even though he does not know their
use. The symbols have not lost their power, they retain it
in themselves.
