After his return from this betrothal, the power of second sight which seemed to have left Reuel for a time, returned in full force. Restlessness was upon him; Dianthe’s voice seemed ever calling to him through space. Finally, when his feelings became insupportable, he broached the subject to Ai.
The latter regarded his questioner gravely. “Of a truth thou art a legitimate son of Ethiopia. Thou growest the fruits of wisdom. Descendant of the wise Chaldeans, still powerful to a degree undreamed of by the pigmies of this puny age, you look incredulous, but what I tell you is the solemn truth.”
“The Chaldeans disappeared from this world centuries ago,” declared Reuel.
“Not all—in me you behold their present head; within this city and the outer world, we still number thousands.”
Reuel uttered an exclamation of incredulous amazement. “Not possible!”
Silently Ai went to his cabinet and took down a small, square volume which he placed in Reuel’s hand. “It is a record of the wisdom and science of your ancestors.”
Reuel turned it over carefully,—the ivory pages were covered with characters sharply defined and finely engraved.
“What language is this? It is not Hebrew, Greek nor Sanskrit, nor any form of hieroglyphic writing.”
“It is the language once commonly spoken by your ancestors long before Babylon was builded. It is known to us now as the language of prophecy.”
Reuel glanced at the speaker’s regal form with admiration and reverence.