“Can such a thing happen again?” asked Bickley in a voice that did not hide his disbelief.

“Why do you question me, Bickley, you who believe nothing of what I tell you, and therefore make wrath?  Still I will say this, that what I caused to happen I can cause once more—­only once, I think—­as perchance you shall learn before all is done.  Now, since you do not believe, I will tell you no more of our mysteries, no, not whence this light comes nor what are the properties of the Water of Life, both of which you long to know, nor how to preserve the vital spark of Being in the grave of dreamless sleep, like a live jewel in a casket of dead stone, nor aught else.  As to these matters, Daughter, I bid you also to be silent, since Bickley mocks at us.  Yes, with all this around him, he who saw us rise from the coffins, still mocks at us in his heart.  Therefore let him, this little man of a little day, when his few years are done go to the tomb in ignorance, and his companions with him, they who might have been as wise as I am.”

Thus Oro spoke in a voice of icy rage, his deep eyes glowing like coals.  Hearing him I cursed Bickley in my heart for I was sure that once spoken, his decree was like to that of the Medes and Persians and could not be altered.  Bickley, however, was not in the least dismayed.  Indeed he argued the point.  He told Oro straight out that he would not believe in the impossible until it had been shown to him to be possible, and that the law of Nature never had been and never could be violated.  It was no answer, he said, to show him wonders without explaining their cause, since all that he seemed to see might be but mental illusions produced he knew not how.

Oro listened patiently, then answered: 

“Good.  So be it, they are illusions.  I am an illusion; those savages who died upon the rock will tell you so.  This fair woman before you is an illusion; Humphrey, I am sure, knows it as you will also before you have done with her.  These halls are illusions.  Live on in your illusions, O little man of science, who because you see the face of things, think that you know the body and the heart, and can read the soul at work within.  You are a worthy child of tens of thousands of your breed who were before you and are now forgotten.”

Bickley looked up to answer, then changed his mind and was silent, thinking further argument dangerous, and Oro went on: 

“Now I differ from you, Bickley, in this way.  I who have more wisdom in my finger-point than you with all the physicians of your world added to you, have in your brains and bodies, yet desire to learn from those who can give me knowledge.  I understand from your words to my daughter that you, Bastin, teach a faith that is new to me, and that this faith tells of life eternal for the children of earth.  Is it so?”

“It is,” said Bastin eagerly.  “I will set out—­”

Oro cut him short with a wave of the hand.