When the King had ended his brief speech, and all present, being deeply impressed, held respectful silence, there appeared up above, through one of these openings, a man in a spacious, dun-grey mantle, with a white cloth about his neck. And suddenly, in the deep silence, the voice of this man—much fuller and more powerful than that of the King—cried out, so that they echoed and re-echoed from every corner of the great temple, these words:
"King of men!"
At once everybody looked up, including the King and Queen, who were directly opposite.
But the man was not looking at them. He held his head a little backward, and his dark hair fell down in curls over the white linen. His eyes, beneath their half-closed lids, were gazing into the light of the arched windows opposite him as if to screen the inner vision from the too fierce outer light. His figure was tall and erect. One hand rested on the white balustrade, the other was raised to the height of his head, in a strange and majestic posture of authority.
Again he cried:
"Hail to thee, King of men!"
The master of ceremonies with his white staff, the generals, stiff with gold, the diplomats and magistrates, all looked with something of wonder, by turns at the speaker, at one another, and at the royal pair, not knowing but that it was a special addition to the program, of which there was no official mention. But since it had made an impression, and seemed to befit the temper and spirit of the assembly, all continued to listen. And the conductor of the choir of children, whose turn it now was to take part, waited and listened as well. And quite without hindrance, Markus spoke the following:
"Hail to him who should be called the King of men!-Blessed is he who merits that name.
"For he is crowned by the grace of God, which is wisdom. His sceptre is love, and his seat is righteousness.
"Among the millions who wander and complain, he is the strong and wise one, who goes before and lights the way.