I answered in the affirmative.
"Would you hesitate to break an oath taken in the name of the God in which you believe?" he asked.
"I would not dare to commit such a crime," I answered.
"Then, swear," said he, "that what I have told and shown you, you will never reveal to human being by word or sign."
"Oh, no, you cannot mean that; leave us some clue to your lost race," I entreated.
"Yes, swear," repeated he imperiously.
"No: oh! no, I cannot. Though for your sake," I said, "I will be silent any reasonable number of years you shall dictate to me."
He gazed sternly on me for a few moments, then said.
"Let it be so. When I have passed away you are absolved from your oath."
"You will teach me to read the recorded past," I said inquiringly, "and tell me of the arts now lost, at some future day!"