Shortly afterward a second statue reappeared.  It too was transfigured into a living form, but Maskull was unable to see the details of its face and body, because of the brightness of the light that radiated from them.  This light, which started as pale gold, ended as flaming golden fire.  It illumined the whole underground landscape.  The rock ledges, the cliffs, himself and Corpang on their knees, the two unlighted statues—­all appeared as if in sunlight, and the shadows were black and strongly defined.  The light carried heat with it, but a singular heat.  Maskull was unaware of any rise in temperature, but he felt his heart melting to womanish softness.  His male arrogance and egotism faded imperceptibly away; his personality seemed to disappear.  What was left behind was not freedom of spirit or lightheartedness, but a passionate and nearly savage mental state of pity and distress.  He felt a tormenting desire to serve.  All this came from the heat of the statue, and was without an object.  He glanced anxiously around him, and fastened his eyes on Corpang.  He put a hand on his shoulder and aroused him from his praying.

“You must know what I am feeling, Corpang.”

Corpang smiled sweetly, but said nothing.

“I care nothing for my own affairs any more.  How can I help you?”

“So much the better for you, Maskull, if you respond so quickly to the invisible worlds.”

As soon as he had spoken, the figure began to vanish, and the light to die away from the landscape.  Maskull’s emotion slowly subsided, but it was not until he was once more in complete darkness that he became master of himself again.  Then he felt ashamed of his boyish exhibition of enthusiasm, and thought ruefully that there must be something wanting in his character.  He got up onto his feet.

The very moment that he arose, a man’s voice sounded, not a yard from his ear.  It was hardly raised above a whisper, but he could distinguish that it was not Corpang’s.  As he listened he was unable to prevent himself from physically trembling.

“Maskull, you are to die,” said the unseen speaker.

“Who is speaking?”

“You have only a few hours of life left.  Don’t trifle the time away.”

Maskull could bring nothing out.

“You have despised life,” went on the low-toned voice.  “Do you really imagine that this mighty world has no meaning, and that life is a joke?”

“What must I do?”

“Repent your murders, commit no fresh ones, pay honour to...”

The voice died away.  Maskull waited in silence for it to speak again.  All remained still, however, and the speaker appeared to have taken his departure.  Supernatural horror seized him; he fell into a sort of catalepsy.

At that moment he saw one of the statues fading away, from a pale, white glow to darkness.  He had not previously seen it shining.

In a few more minutes the normal light of the land returned.  Corpang got up, and shook him out of his trance.