The marvel of the piece, however, were the aircraft.  These came by in great numbers.  Sometimes they flew in flocks like wild geese, sometimes singly, sometimes in line and sometimes in ordered squadrons, with outpost and officer ships and an exact distance kept between craft and craft.  None of them seemed to be very large or to carry more than four or five men, but they were extraordinarily swift and as agile as swallows.  Moreover they flew as birds do by beating their wings, but again we could not guess whence came their motive power.

The review vanished, and next appeared a scene of festivity in a huge, illuminated hall.  The Great King sat upon a dais and behind him was that statue of Fate, or one very similar to it, beneath which we stood.  Below him in the hall were the feasters seated at long tables, clad in the various costumes of their countries.  He rose and, turning, knelt before the statue of Fate.  Indeed he prostrated himself thrice in prayer.  Then taking his seat again, he lifted a cup of wine and pledged that vast company.  They drank back to him and prostrated themselves before him as he had done before the image of Fate.  Only I noted that certain men clad in sacerdotal garments not at all unlike those which are worn in the Greek Church to-day, remained standing.

Now all this exhibition of terrestrial pomp faded.  The next scene was simple, that of the death-bed of this same king—­we knew him by his wizened features.  There he lay, terribly old and dying.  Physicians, women, courtiers, all were there watching the end.  The tableau vanished and in place of it appeared that of the youthful successor amidst cheering crowds, with joy breaking through the clouds of simulated grief upon his face.  It vanished also.

“Thus did great king succeed great king for ages upon ages,” said Yva.  “There were eighty of them and the average of their reigns was 700 years.  They ruled the earth as it was in those days.  They gathered up learning, they wielded power, their wealth was boundless.  They nurtured the arts, they discovered secrets.  They had intercourse with the stars; they were as gods.  But like the gods they grew jealous.  They and their councillors became a race apart who alone had the secret of long life.  The rest of the world and the commonplace people about them suffered and died.  They of the Household of Wisdom lived on in pomp for generations till the earth was mad with envy of them.

“Fewer and fewer grew the divine race of the Sons of Wisdom since children are not given to the aged and to those of an ancient, outworn blood.  Then the World said: 

“’They are great but they are not many; let us make an end of them by numbers and take their place and power and drink of their Life-water, that they will not give to us.  If myriads of us perish by their arts, what does it matter, since we are countless?’ So the World made war upon the Sons of Wisdom.  See!”