At these words a door flew open opposite that he had come in by; vast vaulted depths were beheld, as the crypt of an ancient basilica.
The arcades were feebly lighted by brass lamps hung so as to make darkness visible.
Only three remained, the novices. Chance fixed it that they should be standing up by the wall at nearly regular distances. They looked at each other with astonishment, only thus and now learning that they were the heroes of the occasion.
At this instant the door by which the chairman had come, opened to admit six masked men who came to place themselves beside the Master, three on each hand.
"Let Numbers Two and Three disappear for the time," said the Master; "none but the supreme chiefs must know the secrets of the reception or refusal of a would-be mason in the Order of the Illuminated."
The young man and the high-born one retired by the lobby by which they had come, leaving Billet alone.
"Draw nearer," said the chairman. "What is your name among the profane?" he demanded when obeyed.
"François Billet, and it is Strength, among the elect."
"Where did you first see the Light?"