With their heads in their arms, they stumbled along.
Regan, for an instant, would have fled, but he stopped himself. Should a monarch run away from his own experiment? He defiantly waited the coming of the specimens of his mercilessness, with horror of their reproaches.
They came close to him. He saw that the heads were also living, separate from the bodies!
From the bodies, as they had lain upon the ground, had sprouted little heads, which had not grown, as they should, upon the neck. The many-headed creatures seemed all alive; they stood, complaining that they had not been able to find their own heads!
It was one thing to call them “vegetables.” It was another thing to have vegetables with souls stand, asking a man to undo the wrong he had committed, but could never repair!
Regan looked at them, helplessly; they seemed a group of heads—heads, nothing but heads and eyes!
He fell down, insensible!
He did not open his eyes again until the noonday sun was blazing down. They were still standing, headless, waiting! Regan staggered to his feet. Through all his cruelty, through all their miserable years, they had yet faith, strong and perfect faith, that this man, their king, would and could restore them to their old life! And Regan knew he could do nothing!
All the land and sea and air began to burn in a transparent glory. The sun itself was lost in a greater splendor. Dim, golden forms in tremulous radiance moved ceaselessly. Vibrating chords of a transcendent song came thrilling all the space. Beyond this miracle of whitening glory, swept along in a chariot of purple and gold, was a great dim gate, rising as one dark cloud rises beyond a misty white one. Through these moving portals was a glimpse of a bewildering vision which made the star seem dark! So rise the God-lit heights of Heaven beyond the gates of pearl!
Yet Regan knew this was not Heaven. No; it was only a translation from the star to some greater glory. There were winged angels indistinctly flitting.