Behind the high railing, old Michael Arian's lips moved rapidly and nervously, as though he were muttering inaudible prayers; while Bale-Corphew's florid face flamed, as, with a rapid, agitated movement, he glanced over the tense faces of the congregation.

For one moment it seemed that he was bracing himself for action, but before his intentions could bear fruit, the voice of the Prophet again rang out across the chapel.
"My People!" he said.

"It is now that I appeal to your humanity! It is now that I ask each one of you--men and women--to stand in this boy's place--this boy, built like yourselves of human desires, human hopes, human weaknesses.

After seven long years he touched the knowledge that he had become indispensable; and the bearer of that knowledge was Death--his master's master! "Death came; and in his chill presence the boy saw his task completed--laid aside like a written scroll! "It was the most glorious moment of his life--that moment in which he stood with unshaken faith, looking towards the future.

But the darker side of existence was his portion; he had been born to the darker side.
Within one hour of his master's death, his dreams were dispelled.