“The object of black still diminishes; and now the purple hue of the waters is fading away!”
“My heart—my heart is bursting; I cannot, cannot breathe! Ibrahim, Ibrahim, tell, oh! tell me, what hue do the waters assume? Thou art silent! I dare not turn and gaze with mine own eyes; do not mock me thus, Ibrahim!”
“A calm lake, cloudless, waveless, and beautiful opens to my gaze. The waters are clear as crystal. No shadow dims their unfathomable brilliancy, no object of blackness floats upon the surface. The sands have fallen in the glass—”
“Speak, speak, Ibrahim, or I will fall to the floor! Is there no shadow resting upon the surface of the white waters?”
“None, by my soul, none!”
“Then—then—Aldarin—is—immortal.”
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH.
THE TRIAL OF THE WATERS OF LIFE.
“AS THE SANDS OF THE THIRD HOUR SINK IN THE GLASS—THE DEAD SHALL ARISE.”
Arising in tongues of flame from the floor of stone, a fire of crackling wood, cast its ruddy glare around the Cavern of the Dead; flinging glimpses of blood-red light along the earth-hidden roof, and imparting a strange appearance of warmth and life, to the hideous figures, scattered along the pavement of the vault.
Turned to burning red by the full glare of the flame, the gigantic Figure of Stone, which gloomed above the Mound of Death, seemed starting into life, as with arms thrown wildly aloft, and downcast eyes, it surveyed the strange spectacle extended beneath its stony gaze.
Ascending from the cavern floor, a square tent, for by that name alone it may be designated, formed of curtains of jet-black leather, gave three of its sides to the glare of the flame, while the fourth was wrapt in shadow.