And then the mists stirred, and the warriors prostrated themselves upon the ground.
And the sun rose from their midst, and rested upon their golden ranks, and looked across the plain.
And the whole plain shone with a wonderful, dazzling radiance.
And the mists rose triumphantly in a mighty host, parted in the south, swayed, and swept upwards.
And Makar seemed to hear a most enchanting melody, the immemorial pæan with which the earth daily greets the rising sun. He had never before given it due attention, and only now felt for the first time the beauty of the song.
He stood and hearkened and would not go any farther; he wanted to stand there forever and listen.
But Father Ivan touched him on the arm.
“We have arrived,” he said. “Let us go in.”
Thereupon Makar noticed that they were standing before a large door which had previously been hidden by the mist.