“Dear me!” said Bastin, “he looks just like the devil, doesn’t he, and now I come to think of it, this isn’t at all a bad imitation of hell.” “How do you know it is an imitation?” asked Bickley. “Because whatever might be the case with you, Bickley, if it were, the Lady Yva and I should not be here.” Even then I could not help smiling at this repartee, but the argument went no further for Oro held up his hand and Yva bent the knee in greeting to him. “So you have come, all of you,” he said. “I thought that perhaps there were one or two who would not find courage to ride the flying stone. I am glad that it is not so, since otherwise he who had shown himself a coward should have had no share in the rule of that new world which is to be. Therefore I chose yonder road that it might test you.” “Then if you will be so good as to choose another for us to return by, I shall be much obliged to you, Oro,” said Bastin. “How do you know that if I did it would not be more terrible, Preacher? How do you know indeed that this is not your last journey from which there is no return?” “Of course I can’t be sure of anything, Oro, but I think the question is one which you might more appropriately put to yourself. According to your own showing you are now extremely old and therefore your end is likely to come at any moment. Of course, however, if it did you would have one more journey to make, but it wouldn’t be polite for me to say in what direction.” Oro heard, and his splendid, icy face was twisted with sudden rage. Remembering the scene in the temple where he had grovelled before his god, uttering agonised, unanswered prayers for added days, I understood the reason of his wrath. It was so great that I feared lest he should kill Bastin (who only a few hours before, be it remembered, had tried to kill _him_) then and there, as doubtless he could have done if he wished. Fortunately, if he felt it; the impulse passed. “Miserable fool!” he said. “I warn you to keep a watch upon your words. Yesterday you would have slain me with your toy. Today you stab me with your ill-omened tongue. Be fearful lest I silence it for ever.” “I am not in the least fearful, Oro, since I am sure that _you_ can’t hurt me at all any more than I could hurt you last night because, you see, it wasn’t permitted. When the time comes for me to die, I shall go, but _you_ will have nothing to do with that. To tell the truth, I am very sorry for you, as with all your greatness, your soul is of the earth, earthy, also sensual and devilish, as the Apostle said, and, I am afraid, very malignant, and you will have a great deal to answer for shortly. Yours _won’t_ be a happy deathbed, Oro, because, you see, you glory in your sins and don’t know what repentance means.”