But the lad's first words were drowned by the prolonged cheers and clanging of the glasses of his guests, and he had to wait patiently for a hearing. And when at last the speech was made it was disappointing to some who had expected greater things from the speaker. He was evidently not in good form, for he paused again and again with a far away look in his eyes as if he heard some voice calling him, and had difficulty in concentrating his attention. As he closed however with a joke amid the cheers of his companions, there was suddenly a dead silence, as across the street came the loud and piercing sound of a trumpet. "It is the herald again," someone exclaimed. "Aye, It is the herald! He won't leave us alone, what do we want with him here?" grumbled another. "He's enough to throw a gloom over the merriest feast," cried a third. "Right you are. I could not sleep the other night for thinking of his prophecies about Punon. All are doomed to death who stay here," said the first speaker. "We need not believe every fool who prates," cried Amer, "come and let's hear the man again and get some fun by questioning him as to the truth of his words." "'Why, Amer, I began to think you half believed in him," laughed one of his companions as a stir began and a hasty exit was made from the house. The herald was standing in the market-place. "Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord," he cried. Amer found his way to the front of the crowd in the masterful manner that was natural to him, his satellites surrounding him on every side. And then began a volley of mocking questions and raillery, led by Amer and his companions, and aided by the lighter spirits among those present. Some of the questions the herald answered quietly and patiently, others he answered not at all, but stood and looked at the young men with sorrow and deep compassion written across his face. At last seeing that the people were demoralized by this band of intruders, he turned quietly away, saying in a solemn voice that rang loud and clear above the noise of the crowd— "Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord." Slowly the crowd broke up, and Amer's friends parted from him with laughter and congratulations as to the success of his banquet, leaving him at last to find his way home alone. "Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord." The words rang in the lad's head. The feast, his companions, the fun, all forgotten: the words, together with the gentle sternness of the face of the herald, alone filling his mind. "Ah!" he cried, "It is the Voice again. I hoped it was stifled! I will not listen." But the words would not leave him alone.