“Death swung his scythe and made a whistling cut. The earth and all the stars quivered. But the scythe did not seem to be sharp enough for him. He looked about him as though seeking a seat. The New Tower of Babel seemed to suit Death. He sat down on the New Tower of Babel, propped up the scythe, took the whet-stone from his girdle, spat on it and began to whet the scythe. Blue sparks flew out of the steel. Then Death arose and made a second blow. A rain of stars poured down from the sky. “Death nodded with satisfaction, turned around and set off, on his way through the great Metropolis.” CHAPTER XI “Yes,” said Josaphat hoarsely, “but that was a dream....” “Of course it was a dream.... And they say dreams are bubbles, don’t they? But just listen to this, Josaphat.... I emerged from this dream back into reality with a feeling of sadness, which seemed to hack me, as with a knife, from head to foot. I saw Maria’s brow, that white temple of goodness and virginity, besmirched with the name of the great harlot of Babylon. I saw her send Death out over the city. I saw how abominations upon abominations loosened themselves from about her and fluttered away, swarming through the city—plague spirits, messengers of evil before the path of Death. I stood out there and looked over at the cathedral, which seemed to me to be desecrated and soiled. Its doors stood open. Dark, human snakes were creeping into the cathedral, and collecting themselves upon the steps. I thought: Perhaps, among all those pious people, is my Maria too.... I said to my father: ‘I wish to go to the cathedral....’ He let me go. I was no captive. As I reached the cathedral the organ was thundering like the Trump of Doom. Singing from a thousand throats. _Dies Irae_.... The incense clouded above the head of the multitude, which was kneeling before the eternal God. The crucifix hovered above the high altar, and, in the light of the restless candles, the drops of blood on the thorn-crowned brow of the son of Mary seemed to come to life, to run. The saints in the pillar niches looked at me sadly, as though they knew of my evil dream. “I sought Maria. Oh, I knew quite well that all the thousands could not hide her from me. If she were here I should find her out, as a bird finds its way to its nest. But my heart lay as if dead in my breast. Yet I could not help looking for her. I wandered about the place where I had already waited for her once before.... Yes—so may a bird wander about the place where was its nest which it cannot find again, because the lightning or the storm has destroyed it. “And, when I came to the side-niche, in which Death stands, as a minstrel, playing upon a human bone, the niche was empty, Death had disappeared.... “It was as though the Death of my dream had not returned home to his following....