"We quivered with a joyful emotion at the idea of having, after two years of search, discovered this Magus of our religion—this great philosopher and organiser, who was able to extricate us from our mental labyrinth. The stranger, however, seizing his violin, began to play it with such warmth of feeling that the ruins resounded as with the echoes of the human voice. His strain was religiously enthusiastic, while at the same time it had an air of antique simplicity.
"Nothing in these unknown songs bespoke languor or reverie. They were like the songs of war, and made us fancy we saw triumphant armies, with banners, and palms, and all the insignia of a new religion. I saw, as it were, the vastness of all nations united under one bright banner. There was no disorder in their ranks, no impetuous outbreaks; but they portrayed human activity in all its splendor, victory in all its clemency, faith in all its sublime expansion.
"'This is magnificent,' said I to myself, when I had heard three or four of his magnificent strains. 'It is the true Te Deum—Humanity, revived and refreshed, giving thanks to the God of all religions—to the Light of all men!'
"'You understand me, my child,' said the musician, wiping the perspiration and tears from his face. 'You see Time has but one voice to proclaim truth. Look at the old man. He, by understanding this mystery, has become at least twenty years younger.'
"We looked at the old man. He was erect, and walked with ease, while he kept time to the music as he paced, like a mere youth. There had certainly been a miracle worked on him through the instrumentality of music. He came down the hill without caring for assistance; and when his step became slow, the musician said—
"'Zdenko, do you wish me to play again to you the "March of Procopious the Great," or the "Benediction of the Standard of the Orebites?'"
"The old man signified however, that he still had sufficient strength, as if he feared to exhaust the heavenly aid and inspiration of his friend.
"We went towards the hamlet we had seen on our right hand on going to the ruins. On the way Spartacus questioned the musician.
"'You have played,' said he, 'incomparable melodies to us, and by your brilliant prelude I understand that you meant to prepare our senses for the enthusiasm with which you are inspired, and wish to exalt yourself, as the pythonesses and the prophets did, and so pronounce your oracles as if by the power of God. Now, then, speak. The air is calm, the path is smooth, and the moon shines out in all her beauty. All nature is silent, apparently to listen to you; and our hearts call aloud for your revelations. Vain science and haughty reason will become humbled in us, beneath your burning language. Speak!—the time is come.'
"The philosopher, however, would not comply with the request; but said—