METROPOLIS once more on his way downwards, the son of Joh Fredersen was standing before the opening of the cell and was, in a step, standing beside the man whose back seemed to be nailed to the wooden wall. What is your name?" he asked gently. A hesitation in drawing breath, then the answer, which sounded as though he were listening for something: "J05aphat...." "What will you do now, Josaphat?" They sank. They sank. As they passed through the great hall the enonnous windows of which overlooked the street of bridges, broadly and ostentatiously, Freder saw, on turning his head, outlined against the blackness of the sky, already half extinguished, the dripping word: "Yoshiwara. ... He spoke as if stretching out both hands, as just if closing his eyes in speaking: "Will you come to me, Josaphat?" A hand Huttered up like a scared bird. "I-?" gasped the stranger. "Yes, Josaphat." The young voice so full of kindness.... They sank. They sank. Light-darkness-light-darkness again.
"Will you come to me, Josaphat?" "Yes'" said the strange man with incomparable fervour. "Yes I" They dropped into light. Freder seized him by the arm and dragged him out with him, out of the great pump~works of the New Tower of Babel, holding him fast as he reeled. "Where do you live, Josaphat?" "Ninetieth Block. House seven. Seventh floor." "Then go home, Josaphat. Perhaps I shall come to you myself; perhaps I shall send a messenger who will bring you to me. I do not know what the next few hours will bring forth.. .. But I do not waot any man I know, if I can prevent it, to lie a whole night long, staring up at the ceiling until it seems to come crashing down on him... :' "What can I do for you?" asked the man. Freder felt the vice-like pressure of his hand. He smiled.
33
