"Uncle! Uncle!" I cried. "You mean to say that you know the truth?"
"I know the whole truth, my boy," he declared. "I know how much is my work and how much has nothing to do with me. What was once darkness is now dazzling light."
And he added, in a very serious tone:
"It is beyond all imagination, my boy. It is beyond the most extravagant dreams; and yet it remains within the province of facts and certainties. Once humanity knows of it, the earth will pass through a thrill of religious awe; and the people who come here as pilgrims will fall upon their knees—as I did—fall upon their knees like children who pray and fold their hands and weep!"
His words, which were obviously exaggerated, seemed to come from an ill-balanced mind. Yet I felt the force of their exciting and feverish influence:
"Explain yourself, uncle, I beg you."
"Later on, my boy, when all the points have been cleared up."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Nothing from you."