The horses dragged the plough and the old man a few paces farther. And when the triple team stopped afresh, I asked:
"But if you do not expect the harvest, why are you ploughing the field?"
This question, too, seemed to be unintelligible to him.
"Why?" he answered in surprise. "Not for myself, of course, but for those who will come after me." And breaking off the conversation, he started shouting at the horses to make them turn to the new, and last strip of the field.
I took leave of the old man and went my way. His words sank deep into my soul. I repeated them to myself until the stars appeared in the sky, and when, before falling asleep, I pondered as ever, upon death, it seemed to me to be something as elusive and as untraceable as the merging of one colour with another in a rainbow.
BOLESLAW PRUS: FROM THE LEGENDS OF ANCIENT EGYPT.
Behold, how vain are human hopes before the dispensation of the world! Behold how vain they are before the decrees which the Omnipotent has inscribed with fiery signs upon the heavens.
The aged Rameses, the mighty ruler of Egypt,
