I stood in front of the stage, flanked by the tin man and the scarecrow.  The woman was a few feet from us, hunkered down with her hood pulled tightly around her face, as if she were still hidden and watching in secret.  The lure of the show had drawn her closer to us than she had ever been, but still I did not catch more of a glimpse of her than her eyes, liquid blue and haunting.  

It was a puppet show. Across the small stage a figure moved in hesitating starts and stops.  Two other figures appeared at opposite sides and were still.   I recognized them as my companions and the woman who followed us but would not join us.  None of the characters spoke. I drew closer to the stage and as I did, a fourth puppet entered.  It was a man in a jacket and ruffled shirt.  "The peddler", I exclaimed.

"A show", said the scarecrow.  "How nice".  He sat upon the ground and stared up at the stage like a child, entranced.

There was no dialogue, the peddler moved about from figure to figure stopping at the likeness of the woman and only then did he suddenly speak.  

"I have seen your treasure, and the one who holds it.  I will bring the keeper of your treasure to you, do not despair."

The woman, the real one, huddled as she was on the ground, sobbed quietly as the show played out before us.  The likeness of the peddler stood in the middle of the stage now, addressing the audience.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the story of three is actually the story of one.  There is magic afoot, amazing and mysterious.  You have watched as an observer but you must participate if the magician is to succeed.  Are you prepared"?

The tin man and the scarecrow shouted "Yes" and clapped their hands, the woman sat upon the ground, her hands busying themselves, wringing one over another.

"Where is the magician?" I called out.  "Where is the Wizard?"

"Patience, my friend, patience", was the answer from the stage.  "The hurry you are in hinders your understanding."

"I didn't come all this way to talk to a puppet", I raged.  "I want to know now why I was brought here."

"You will remember sir, when we last spoke", the peddler puppet prodded. "I told you then of your purpose."

"Okay, that's another thing, you keep calling me sir, why do you do that?" I asked him, feeling slightly irritated with his side-stepping.  I had wondered why he called me "sir" that day on the street, but I never asked. I suppose most women would have been affronted to be addressed so, as if mistaken for a man, but I ignored it as an affectation.  His words caused enough unrest and I thought only to get away from him.  I realized why now the peddler had caught my attention that day and why he was here now.  Before I had ever seen him, I knew him. Before he spoke I understood.  He had seen more than he had been shown, and I feared him for that reason.  He revealed now his understanding.

"That was your idea", he replied. If it were possible for a puppet to grin, he would have grinned when he said it, but his voice held sarcasm. "You are the one who has made your persona, you have chosen.  And in so doing you have left her deserted and alone."  He pointed to the puppet of the woman.

"I have never even met her before."

"You won't meet her, you mean.  Yet, you have taken something from her and you refuse to give it back."  The puppet raised one hand accusingly.  "You are responsible for her mourning. "

"What have I taken from her? How have I done this?" I waved my hand at the woman, who was on her knees, face groundward, sobbing.  "How am I responsible for this?"

"You took her beauty from her, you stole from her the right of every woman to be beautiful to her inner eye.  You gave her only ugliness and sorrow, you robbed her of her vision.  See how she hides her face.  She is unable to bring herself to show it, she is convinced of its imperfection.  All because you selfishly made her hide it, told her to keep it hidden lest your belief in her beauty betrayed you."

 An anger rose inside me, was all that I had been through only to bring me in for accusations?
Was I now to be called robber and thief?

"Am I here to be tried for some crime?" I cried out.  "Are my crimes so great?"

The puppet of the peddler crumbled to the stage as the hand that animated him relinquished its grasp.  I heard another voice, like the peddler's but steadier, the showmanship gone out of it, as a man stepped from behind the curtain.

In physical appearance he was the peddler but his garb was different, more subtle.  Gone were the ruffled shirt and jacket with the oversized lapels, replaced with a plain dark suit, old fashioned but it looked neat and new.  There was no trace of the glib salesman now, the voice that hawked wares and told fortunes.  Instead his voice was slow and determined.

"I have brought you here to save you, not to punish you", spoke the Wizard.