“Show us the wizard that we may slay him,” roared the mob.

Leonora had been communicative, and the student was immediately identified by twenty persons.  The lock of hair was found upon him, and was held up in sight of the multitude.

“Kill him!”

“Burn him!”

“Crucify him!”

“It moves! it moves!” cried another division of the crowd.  All eyes were bent on the hitherto stationary luminary.  It was moving—­no, it wasn’t; yes, it certainly was.  Dared men believe that their shadows were actually lengthening?  Was the sun’s rim really drawing nigh yonder great edifice?  That muffled sound from the vast, silent multitude was, doubtless, the quick beating of innumerable hearts; but that sharper note?  Could it be the ticking of watches?  Suddenly all the public clocks clanged the first stroke of an hour—­an absurdly wrong hour, but it was an hour.  No mortal heard the second stroke, drowned in universal shouts of joy and gratitude.  The student mingled with the mass, no man regarding him.

When the people had somewhat recovered from their emotion, they fell to disputing as to the cause of the last marvel.  No scientific man could get beyond a working hypothesis.  The mystery was at length solved by a very humble citizen, a barber.

“Why,” he said, “the old gentleman’s hair has grown again!”

And so it had!  And so it was that the unborn came to life, the dying gave up the ghost, Leonora pulled out a grey hair, and the student told the professor his dream.

THE ELIXIR OF LIFE

The aged philosopher Aboniel inhabited a lofty tower in the city of Balkh, where he devoted himself to the study of chemistry and the occult sciences.  No one was ever admitted to his laboratory.  Yet Aboniel did not wholly shun intercourse with mankind, but, on the contrary, had seven pupils, towardly youths belonging to the noblest families of the city, whom he instructed at stated times in philosophy and all lawful knowledge, reserving the forbidden lore of magic and alchemy for himself.

But on a certain day he summoned his seven scholars to the mysterious apartment.  They entered with awe and curiosity, but perceived nothing save the sage standing behind a table, on which were placed seven crystal phials, filled with a clear liquid resembling water.

“Ye know, my sons,” he began, “with what ardour I am reputed to have striven to penetrate the hidden secrets of Nature, and to solve the problems which have allured and baffled the sages of all time.  In this rumour doth not err:  such hath ever been my object; but, until yesterday, my fortune hath been like unto theirs who have preceded me.  The little I could accomplish seemed as nothing in comparison with what I was compelled to leave unachieved.  Even now my success is but partial.  I have not learned to make gold; the talisman of Solomon is not mine; nor can I recall the principle of life to the dead, or infuse it into inanimate matter.  But if I cannot create, I can preserve.  I have found the Elixir of Life.”