Socrates stood alone in the light of the sun under the high heavens.
Ctesippus was distinctly conscious of the pulse-beat of a mysterious life quivering throughout nature, stirring even the tiniest blade of grass.
A breath seemed to be stirring the balmy air, a voice to be sounding in wonderful harmony, an invisible tread to be heard—the tread of the radiant Dawn!
And on the illumined peak a man still stood, stretching out his arms in mute ecstasy, moved by a mighty impulse.
A moment, and all disappeared, and the light of an ordinary day shone upon the awakened soul of Ctesippus. It was like dismal twilight after the revelation of nature that had blown upon him the breath of an unknown life.
In deep silence the pupils of the philosopher listened to the marvellous recital of Ctesippus. Plato broke the silence.
“Let us investigate the dream and its significance,” he said.
“Let us investigate it,” responded the others.