Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/17

 He looked a penitent Hercules, none too long

Out of a hospital. But seeing him nearer,

One read where manifest havoc must for years

Have been at work. What havoc, and what work,

I partly guessed; for I had known before

That he had always been, apart from being

All else he was, or rather along with it,

The marked of devils—who must have patiently

And slowly crucified, for subtle sport,

This foiled initiate who had seen and felt

Meanwhile the living fire that mortal doors

For most of us hold hidden. This I believe,

Though some, with more serenity than assurance,

May smile at my belief and wish me well.

Puzzled, I waited for a word with him;

And that was how I came to know all this