His memory was obscurely reviving the incidents of his discovery of the deadly machinery in the vault when he first made his sojourn in the temple, when--filled with the confused remembrance of the mysterious rites and incantations, the secret sacrifices which he had witnessed and performed at Alexandria--he had found and followed the subterranean passage which led to the iron grating beneath the dragon.
As the wind lulled again, and the clashing of the metal ceased with it, he began to give these recollections expression in words, uttering them in slow, solemn accents to himself.
'I have seen the Destroyer; the Invisible has revealed himself to me!' he murmured.

'I stood on the iron bars; the restless waters toiled and struggled beneath my feet as I looked up into the place of darkness.

A voice called to me, "Get light, and behold me from above! Get light! get light!" Sun, and moon, and stars gave no light there! but lamps burnt in the city, in the houses of the dead, when I walked by them in the night-time; and the lamp gave light when sun, and moon, and stars gave none! From the top steps I looked down, and saw the Powerful One in his golden brightness; and approached not, but watched and listened in fear.

The voice again!--the voice was heard again!--"Sacrifice to me in secret, as thy brethren sacrifice! Give me the living where the living are, and the dead where the dead!" The air came up cold, and the voice ceased, and the lamp was like sun, and moon, and stars--it gave no light in the place of darkness!' While he spoke, the loose metal again clashed in the vault, for the wind was strengthening as the evening advanced.

'Hark! the signal to prepare the sacrifice!' cried the Pagan, turning abruptly to Numerian.
'Listen, bondman! the living and the dead are within our reach.