“Name it!”
“Lo! it is written in the Scroll which contains the Priceless Secret. The Prince of Ben-Malakim must be a spectator in the lone chamber where the SECRET is carried into action; he must command in the Halls of the Scholar, who may receive the mystery, while the solemn ceremonies named by the Book, are in progress.”
“The condition is strange—yet”—
“So read the words of THE BOOK!”
“Its behests shall be obeyed.”
“Then Scholar, and friend, let the twelve warriors who follow in my train, take the place of the sentinels at the castle-gate; let them command in the castle-hall, and be obeyed as thyself until the morrow morn!”
“It shall be done. And now, my brother, draw near to the casement; let the warm glow of the setting sun fall over thy features I would look upon thy face, as was my wont in the ancient time. By my soul, thou art sadly changed—fearful wrinkles traverse thy countenance, thy hair and beard are gray; thine eyebrows white. A sad and fearful change!”
“The touch of time falls heaviest on the man of thought, good Aldarin. Thou too, art sadly, fearfully changed.”
“And yet this night shall crown the toil of twenty-one years, with a boon almost beyond mortal hope. Yes—yes,” he continued in a deep whisper, as the full glow of the setting sun fell over his face—“The sun sinks down in glory; his beams fall over the form of the mortal Scholar—Lo! his beams gild the sky on the morrow morn and—how my nerves fire, my heart is full to bursting—Aldarin lives forever.”