Now, when they were almost at the end of this ground, they perceived that a little before them was a solemn noise, as of one that was much concerned. So they went on, and looked before them; and behold, they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with hands and eyes lift up, and speaking, as they thought, earnestly to One that was above. They drew nigh, but could not tell what he said; so they went softly till he had done. When he had done, he got up, and began to run towards the Celestial City.
Then Mr. Great-heart called after him, saying, "So-ho, friend! let us have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to the Celestial City."
So the man stopped, and they came up to him. But, as soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, "I know this man."
Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, "Prithee, who is it?"
"It is one," said he, "that comes from whereabout I dwelt. His name is Stand-fast; he is certainly a right good pilgrim."
So they came up one to another. And presently Stand-fast said to old Honest, "Ho, father Honest, are you there?"
"Ay," said he, "that I am, as sure as you are there."
"Right glad am I," said Mr. Stand-fast, "that I have found you on this road."
"And as glad am I," said the other, "that I espied you upon your knees."
Then Mr. Stand-fast blushed, and said, "But why? did you see me?"
"Yes, that I did," quoth the other, "and with my heart was glad at the sight."
"Why, what did you think?" said Stand-fast.
"Think!" said old Honest; "what should I think? I thought we had an honest man upon the road, and therefore should have his company by-and-by."
"If you thought not amiss," said Stand-fast, "how happy am I! But, if I be not as I should, I alone must bear it."
"That is true," said the other; "but your fear doth further show me that things are right betwixt the Prince of pilgrims and your soul; for He saith, 'Blessed is the man that feareth always.'"
VALIANT. Well, but, brother, I pray thee, tell us what was it that was the cause of thy being upon thy knees even now: was it for that some special mercy laid upon thee, the need of prayer, or how?
STAND. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted Ground; and as I was coming along, I was musing with myself of what a dangerous road the road in this place was, and how many that had come even thus far on pilgrimage, had here been stopped and been destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the death with which this place destroyeth men. Those that die here die of no violent, painful disease: the death which such die is not grievous to them. For he that goeth away in such a sleep, begins that journey with desire and pleasure. Yea, such sink into the will of that disease.