Gibran Stories Omnibus

kill you!”
      And the daughter spoke, and she said: “O hateful woman, selfish and
old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have my life an
echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead!”
      At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, “Is that you, darling?” And the daughter answered gently, “Yes,
dear.”

THE WISE DOG
         
      One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
      And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
      Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, “Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have prayed
again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall rain mice.”
      And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, “O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth for
prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones.”

THE TWO HERMITS
         
      Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
      Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
      One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, “It is long that we have lived
together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide our
possessions.”
      Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, “It grieves me,
Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs go, so be
it,” and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him saying, “We
cannot divide it, Brother, let it be Thine.”
      Then the older hermit said, “Charity I will not accept. I will take
nothing but mine own. It must be divided.”
      And the younger one said, “If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast a
lot.”
      But the older hermit said again, “I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The bowl
must be divided.”
      Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, “If it
be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us now
break the bowl.”
      But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, “O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.”

ON GIVING AND TAKING
         
      Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one day
the mother of Jesus came to him and said: “Friend, my son's garment is
torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the temple. Wouldst
thou not give me a needle?”
      And he gave her not a needle, but he gave her a learned discourse on
Giving and Taking to carry to her son before he should go to the
temple.

THE SEVEN SELVES
         
      In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
      First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years, with
naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by
night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
      Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is
given to me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter and
sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance his brighter
thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary existence.
      Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self who
would rebel against this madman.
      Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught
was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is I, the
tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell, who would
protest against serving this madman.
      Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self, the
self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without rest in
search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is I, not you,
who would rebel.
      Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who, with
patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images and give
the