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But
we
shook
our
head
,
lying
before
them
on
the
floor
.
And
they
departed
.
We
counted
each
day
and
each
night
as
it
passed
.
Then
,
tonight
,
we
knew
that
we
must
escape
.
For
tomorrow
the
World
Council
of
Scholars
is
to
meet
in
our
City
.
It
was
easy
to
escape
from
the
Palace
of
Corrective
Detention
.
The
locks
are
old
on
the
doors
and
there
are
no
guards
about
.
There
is
no
reason
to
have
guards
,
for
men
have
never
defied
the
Councils
so
far
as
to
escape
from
whatever
place
they
were
ordered
to
be
.
Our
body
is
healthy
and
strength
returns
to
it
speedily
.
We
lunged
against
the
door
and
it
gave
way
.
We
stole
through
the
dark
passages
,
and
through
the
dark
streets
,
and
down
into
our
tunnel
.
We
lit
the
candle
and
we
saw
that
our
place
had
not
been
found
and
nothing
had
been
touched
.
And
our
glass
box
stood
before
us
on
the
cold
oven
,
as
we
had
left
it
What
matter
they
now
,
the
scars
upon
our
back
!
Tomorrow
,
in
the
full
light
of
day
,
we
shall
take
our
box
,
and
leave
our
tunnel
open
,
and
walk
through
the
streets
to
the
Home
of
the
Scholars
.
We
shall
put
before
them
the
greatest
gift
ever
offered
to
men
.
We
shall
tell
them
the
truth
.
We
shall
hand
to
them
,
as
our
confession
,
these
pages
we
have
written
.
We
shall
join
our
hands
to
theirs
,
and
we
shall
work
together
,
with
the
power
of
the
sky
,
for
the
glory
of
mankind
.
Our
blessing
upon
you
,
our
brothers
!
Tomorrow
,
you
will
take
us
back
into
your
fold
and
we
shall
be
an
outcast
no
longer
.
Tomorrow
we
shall
be
one
of
you
again
.
Tomorrow
.
.
.
It
is
dark
here
in
the
forest
.
The
leaves
rustle
over
our
head
,
black
against
the
last
gold
of
the
sky
.
The
moss
is
soft
and
warm
.
We
shall
sleep
on
this
moss
for
many
nights
,
till
the
beasts
of
the
forest
come
to
tear
our
body
.
We
have
no
bed
now
,
save
the
moss
,
and
no
future
,
save
the
beasts
.
We
are
old
now
,
yet
we
were
young
this
morning
,
when
we
carried
our
glass
box
through
the
streets
of
the
City
to
the
Home
of
the
Scholars
.
No
men
stopped
us
,
for
there
were
none
about
from
the
Palace
of
Corrective
Detention
,
and
the
others
knew
nothing
.
No
men
stopped
us
at
the
gate
.
We
walked
through
empty
passages
and
into
the
great
hall
where
the
World
Council
of
Scholars
sat
in
solemn
meeting
.
We
saw
nothing
as
we
entered
,
save
the
sky
in
the
great
windows
,
blue
and
glowing
.
Then
we
saw
the
Scholars
who
sat
around
a
long
table
;
they
were
as
shapeless
clouds
huddled
at
the
rise
of
the
great
sky
.
There
were
men
whose
famous
names
we
knew
,
and
others
from
distant
lands
whose
names
we
had
not
heard
.
We
saw
a
great
painting
on
the
wall
over
their
heads
,
of
the
twenty
illustrious
men
who
had
invented
the
candle
.
All
the
heads
of
the
Council
turned
to
us
as
we
entered
.
These
great
and
wise
of
the
earth
did
not
know
what
to
think
of
us
,
and
they
looked
upon
us
with
wonder
and
curiosity
,
as
if
we
were
a
miracle
.
It
is
true
that
our
tunic
was
torn
and
stained
with
brown
stains
which
had
been
blood
.
