Suddenly he felt someone walking by his side, gliding along noiselessly like a shadow; an ice-cold hand seized his own. He uttered an involuntary cry. Two hands were gently pulling at his clothes, the fleshless bones piercing their withered skin. The grip of these hands became playful movements, repulsive caresses like those of debauched women. Julian felt a breath on his cheek tainted with fusty rottenness and moisture, and then became aware of a rapid murmur at his ear, like the rustle of leaves on a night in autumn—
"It is I! It is I!—I!—do you not know me again? It is I!—I!"
"And who, who art thou?" stammered Julian. But immediately he recollected his promise of absolute silence.
"It is I! Shall I strip the bandage from your eyes so that you may know me again, may meet me again?" And the bony fingers, with the same hideous eagerness, fluttered over his face as if seeking to drag off the bandage.
A deadly chill penetrated Julian to the heart, and, through habit, he thrice crossed himself involuntarily, as in childhood at some bad dream.
A clap of thunder! The ground heaved under his feet! He felt himself falling into the unknown; and lost consciousness.
When he regained his senses he was no longer blindfold but lay on cushions in a huge twilit grotto. A cloth, soaked in penetrating perfumes, was being held to his nostrils. Opposite Julian stood a lean man with a coppery skin; it was the gymnosophist—the naked sage—assistant of Maximus.
He was holding high above his head a motionless metallic disc. A voice said to Julian. "Look!" Julian gazed at the dazzling circle. Its brilliancy was almost painful to the eyes. Looking at it fixedly and long, gradually all things melted and lost their sharper outline. A pleasant weakness breathed through his being. The luminous disc no longer shone in the void, but in his own mind; his eyelids descended; a sleepy smile of weariness played upon his submissive lips. He felt a hand stroking his head, and a voice asked—
"Are you asleep?"
"Yes...."