But Windekind put his finger to his lips, and said:
"Hush! We are going to hear still better. Our voyagers are going to a much larger church, where most beautiful music can be heard. They are pilgrims, such as go from all countries every year, at this time, to celebrate the great festival."
"Do I not see another air-ship, Windekind? And there—still another?" asked Johannes.
"Yes; perhaps, indeed, one may be going along with us," said Windekind. "That will make it lively."
And very soon there actually came a second air-ship—a big brother-bird, that flew up to them. Then the flags dipped, and wide dark-blue banners, bearing silver-lettered mottoes, were unfurled to the breeze. The people waved, and shouted aloud. And when the twin birds were so close together that the tips of their great bright wings nearly touched, the people on Johannes' ship struck up an anthem—a full and powerful song—that was immediately responded to by an antistrophe from the other ship. And thus they took turns, first one, then the other, for quite a time.
Johannes' heart was warmed by this sweet understanding among peoples wholly unknown to one another.
"Do all men now speak the same language?" he asked his friend.
"Do you not hear what they are singing? All people have chosen that language as the most beautiful and the most natural. It is Greek."
"I do not know Greek," said Johannes, regretfully.
"But just look at that pennant, then, on the other ship. What does it say?"