"One thing I implore of you, and I know I do not ask in vain. Do not stir up strife in our planet, as other kings have done before you. Your chance of success is almost hopeless, as no doubt you already realise, knowing the intensity of the suspicion wherewith every movement on your part is regarded and provided for. Because you are destined to die, die alone, and forbear to drag a number of innocent persons along with you to your doom. You have performed your manifest duty for the past seven years with a steadfast beneficence that is worthy of your alleged father, the Sun; and remember, it is the fulfilment of duty alone that counts in the future life of the Hereafter, whose prospective blessings will eventually be yours." I cannot describe the tender and earnest manner of the dying man's discourse, terrible though its disclosures were to myself. Even the final piece of advice, platitude of every creed and clime though it was, seemed to come as a help and a spur to me at this critical juncture. After all, what is a platitude but the untimely expression of some great basic truth? And here, from the venerable hierophant, who from a strict sense of duty had left his sick-bed to come hither and instruct me, the words seemed to possess a peculiar meaning and value; his simple appeal to my own sense of rectitude had all the force of a profound thought extracted from a world of thinking. I could only press the hot, dry, bony hand, as I shrouded my head in the folds of my royal mantle in a vain endeavour to subdue a fresh bout of weeping. "And now," continued my companion, making an effort to rise, "I must depart with my blessing upon you. Long may you be spared to rule in Meleager; and if not so, then we shall meet in due sequence within that narthex of silence and shadows which forms the vestibule to the temple of the Hereafter."