He had read all kinds of theological books, had easily and trustfully given himself up to the echo of words heard in childhood, but it had not gone deeper.

Now that they ought to prove their worth, they left him in the lurch.

He turned over the pages, he read and prayed and sought, and found nothing to relieve his need.
Discouraged, he pushed the books away from him, and some of them fell over the edge of the table on to the brick floor.
In the night that followed Konrad had a dream, vivid and clear as never dream had been.

It was a dark country, and he had lost his way.

He wandered about amid cold, damp rocks, and could not find a path.