A faint quiver as of laughter vibrated through the "Sound Ray."
"No, indeed! We have no nationality."
"No nationality?"
"None. We are one people. But we speak every language that ever has been spoken in the past, or is spoken in the present. I speak English to you because it is your manner of talk, though not your manner of life."
"How do you know it is not my manner of life?"
"Because you are not happy in it. Your manner of life is ours. It has nothing to do with nations or peoples. You are Morgana."
"And you?" she cried with sudden eagerness—"Oh, who are you that speak to me?—man, woman, or angel? What are the dwellers in your city, if it is in truth a city, and not a dream!"
"Look again and see!" answered the Voice—"Convince yourself!—do not be deceived! You are not dreaming—Look and make yourself sure!"
Impelled to movement, she went to the window which she had left to take up the steering-gear,—and from there saw again the wonderful scene spread out below, the towers, spires, cupolas and bridges, all lit with that mysterious golden luminance like smouldering sunset fire.
"It is beautiful!" she said—"It seems true—it seems real—"