He said, in a low whisper:
"Véronique, do you hear me? Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ."
After a moment's hesitation:
"I want you to know it . . . yes, I myself am terrified at what I'm doing. But it's fate . . . . You remember the prophecy? 'Your wife shall die on the cross.' Why, your very name, Véronique, demands it! . . . Remember St. Veronica wiping Christ's face with a handkerchief and the Saviour's sacred image remaining on the handkerchief . . . . Véronique, you can hear me, surely? Véronique . . ."
He ran down hurriedly, snatched the flask of rum from Conrad's hands and emptied it at a draught.
He was now seized with a sort of delirium which made him rave for a few moments in a language which his accomplices did not understand. Then he began to challenge the invisible enemy, to challenge the gods, to hurl forth imprecations and blasphemies:
"Vorski is the mightiest of all men, Vorski governs fate. The elements and the mysterious powers of nature are compelled to obey him. Everything will fall out as he has determined; and the great secret will be declared to him in the mystic forms and according to the rules of the Kabala. Vorski is awaited as the prophet. Vorski will be welcomed with cries of joy and ecstasy; and one whom I know not, one whom I can only half see, will come to meet him with palms and benedictions. Let the unknown make ready! Let him arise from the darkness and ascend from hell! Here stands Vorski. To the sound of bells, to the singing of alleluias, let the fateful sign be revealed upon the face of the heavens, while the earth opens and sends forth whirling flames!"
He fell silent, as though he had descried in the air the signs which he foretold. The hopeless death-rattle of the dying woman sounded from overhead. The storm growled in the distance; and the black clouds were rent by lightning. All nature seemed to be responding to the ruffian's appeal.
His grandiloquent speech and his play-acting made a great impression on the two accomplices.
"He frightens me," Otto muttered.