3rd Part

A man can scarcely carry the one soul he has. Even then, most fail—the stranger seemed not to care, or else there were other things he cared for more. When the hermit finally agreed to carry a second soul for the space of two years, the traveler gave it to him freely, and seemed happy to be rid of it.

Not happy, exactly. No, more like lightened, as though his body were no longer bound by gravity or other natural laws. His faint smile disappeared, however. He became solemn at once.

They took dinner just outside the cabin door because it was a fine night. The hermit prepared rabbit meat and fried corn, and brought a jar of red wine out of hiding. There was no need for elegance because they were little more than business partners, and less close than that even, but for the bond of souls. After awhile, the hermit spoke some unsolicited words.

"My wife and daughter lie out there in the dirt. They're two seeds that will never sprout, two beautiful flowers that are doomed to blossom only with worms. I took them here with me to find Wisdom because I couldn't bear to leave them, but I was a coward. They had no business here, and neither had I. I was not wise then, and I'm not now."

The stranger looked at the hermit as he spoke, but he had nothing to reply. Instead, he chewed the tasty meat and took a long draught of wine. A night breeze blew over them, like the breath of faint wings from a long way off.

"Remind me again how you intend to find Wisdom." The hermit watched the wind in the tops of the trees, and the darkness of night angling down from the East.

"I will do everything men can."

The hermit said nothing more. He let the wanderer sleep on his daughter's old bed, fixed breakfast for him in the morning, and watched him down the mountain. Then he cleaned the dishes, made the beds, and chopped some wood.

He wondered why the young man had asked him to carry his soul. Surely there were people in the city more pious? What made the traveler think an old hermit wouldn't lose it, or damage it, or sell it off to the highest bidder? Perhaps because he knew there would be no one around to give it to, or who would buy it. The hermit laughed, but it was a crackly laugh and unconvincing, having been put away for so long and forgotten.

The young man had said he'd return in two years to reclaim his soul. That wasn't much time to accomplish what he wanted, the hermit thought, but he wasn't about to bargain for more time. Two years was probably too much as it was. What if he died? He wondered if the other soul would simply become a ghost, or if it would find the young man, or if it would burn away like ash, or if he'd simply have to carry it throughout eternity.

In the end he decided it didn't bear much thought.

Sometimes at night he wondered where the young man was, but decided that didn't bear much thought, either. Best just to wait for his return and do what he had always done. Eventually the two souls became easier to bear, and he thought about the young man less, except sometimes to wonder if he really meant to come back for his soul at all. If he didn't it was no one's loss but his own, the hermit decided finally, and marked one day closer to the wanderer's return.