the stars.  To trace their courses is to untangle the threads of the mystery of life from the beginning to the end.  If we could follow them perfectly, nothing would be hidden from us.  But is not our knowledge of them still incomplete?  Are there not many stars still beyond our horizon—­lights that are known only to the dwellers in the far south-land, among the spice-trees of Punt and the gold-mines of Ophir?”

There was a murmur of assent among the listeners.

“The stars,” said Tigranes, “are the thoughts of the Eternal.  They are numberless.  But the thoughts of man can be counted, like the years of his life.  The wisdom of the Magi is the greatest of all wisdoms on earth, because it knows its own ignorance.  And that is the secret of power.  We keep men always looking and waiting for a new sunrise.  But we ourselves know that the darkness is equal to the light, and that the conflict between them will never be ended.”

“That does not satisfy me,” answered Artaban, “for, if the waiting must be endless, if there could be no fulfilment of it, then it would not be wisdom to look and wait.  We should become like those new teachers of the Greeks, who say that there is no truth, and that the only wise men are those who spend their lives in discovering and exposing the lies that have been believed in the world.  But the new sunrise will certainly dawn in the appointed time.  Do not our own books tell us that this will come to pass, and that men will see the brightness of a great light?”

“That is true,” said the voice of Abgarus; “every faithful disciple of Zoroaster knows the prophecy of the Avesta and carries the word in his heart.  ’In that day Sosiosh the Victorious shall arise out of the number of the prophets in the east country.  Around him shall shine a mighty brightness, and he shall make life everlasting, incorruptible, and immortal, and the dead shall rise again.’”

“This is a dark saying,” said Tigranes, “and it may be that we shall never understand it.  It is better to consider the things that are near at hand, and to increase the influence of the Magi in their own country, rather than to look for one who may be a stranger, and to whom we must resign our power.”

The others seemed to approve these words.  There was a silent feeling of agreement manifest among them; their looks responded with that indefinable expression which always follows when a speaker has uttered the thought that has been slumbering in the hearts of his listeners.  But Artaban turned to Abgarus with a glow on his face, and said: 

“My father, I have kept this prophecy in the secret place of my soul.  Religion without a great hope would be like an altar without a living fire.  And now the flame has burned more brightly, and by the light of it I have read other words which also have come from the fountain of Truth, and speak yet more clearly of the rising of the Victorious One in his brightness.”