Chapter 83
The PsycheIN the fresh morning dawn, in the rosy air gleams a great
Star, the brightest Star of the morning. His rays tremble on the
white wall, as if he wished to write down on it what he can tell,
what he has seen there and elsewhere during thousands of years in
our rolling world. Let us hear one of his stories.
"A short time ago"—the Star's "short time ago" is called
among men "centuries ago"—"my rays followed a young artist. It was
in the city of the Popes, in the world-city, Rome. Much has been
changed there in the course of time, but the changes have not come
so quickly as the change from youth to old age. Then already the
palace of the Caesars was a ruin, as it is now; fig trees and
laurels grew among the fallen marble columns, and in the desolate
bathing-hal
