Then at the head of the grave an old, old man clad in mail beneath his priestly robes, and that man _myself_, Hugh, grown very ancient, but still myself, and no other.
"And at the foot of the grave _you_, Hugh de Cressi, you and no other, wayworn and fierce, but also clad in mail, and wearing a knight's crest upon your shield.

You with drawn sword in hand, and facing you, also with drawn sword, rage and despair on his dark face, a stately, foreign-looking man, whom mine eyes have never seen, but whom I should know again midst a million, a man who, I think, was doomed to fill the grave.
"Lastly, standing on a little mound near to the bank of the swirling river, where jagged sheets of ice ground against each other like the teeth of the wicked in hell, strangely capped and clad in black, his arms crossed upon his breast and a light smile in his cold eyes, he who was called Murgh in Cathay, he who named himself Gateway of the Gods! "For a moment I saw, then all was gone, and I found myself--I know not why--walking toward the mighty arch whereon sat the iron dragons.

In its shadow I turned and looked back.

There at the head of the pool the man was seated in his chair, and to right and to left of him came the black doves and the white doves in countless multitudes, all the thousands of them that had been stayed in their flight pouring down upon him at once--or so I thought.

They wheeled about his head, they hid his face from me, and I--I departed into the shadow of the arch, and I saw him and them no more.".