hohadgrowntiredandoldandwilted,withmuchgrayinhisbeard.Itwasanold,somewhatumanwholookedbackathimfromthelittlemirrorsdullsurface—butstrangelyunfamiliar.Itdidobeproperlypresent;itdidobeofmutohim.Itremindedhimofotherfaceshehadknown,alittleofMasterNiklaus,alittleoftheoldknightwhohadoncehadapagesoutfitmadeforhim,andalsoalittleofSt.Jathechurch,ofoldbeardedSt.Jacobwholookedsoaandgrayunderhispilgrimshat,ailljoyousandgood.

    Carefullyhereadthemirrorface,asthoughhewereiedinfindingoutaboutthisstranger.Heohimandknewhimagaiwashe;itcorrespohefeelinghehadabouthimself.Aremelytiredoldman,whohadgrownslightlynumb,whohadreturnedfromajourney,anordinarymaninwhomonecouldnottakemuchpride.Ahehadnothingagainsthim.Hestilllikedhim;therewassomethinginhisfacethattheearlier,prettyGoldmundhadnothad.Inallthefatigueanddisiiontherewasatraceofte,oratleastofdetat.Helaughedsoftlytohimselfandsawthemirrejoinhim:afinefellowhehadbroughthomefromhistrip!Prettymuchtornandbur,hewasreturningfromhislittleexcursion.Hehadnotonlysacrificedhishorse,hissatchel,andhisgoldpieces;otherthings,too,hadgottenlostordesertedhim:youth,health,self-fidehecolorinhischeeksandtheforhiseyes.Yethelikedtheimage:thisweakoldfellowinthemirrorwasdearertohimthantheGoldmundhehadbeenforsolong.Hewasolder,weaker,morepitiable,buthewasmoreharmless,hewasmoretent,itwaseasiertogetalongwithhim.Helaughedandpulleddowheeyelidsthathadbeewrihebacktobedandthistimefellasleep.

    Thedayhesathunchedoverthetableinhisroomandtriedtodrawalittle.Narcissuscametovisit