practice. That which you promised a few weeks since, I many years
ago vowed to the Gods; to guard knowledge as the exclusive possession
of the initiated. Like fire, it serves those who know its uses to the
noblest ends, but in the hands of children--and the people, the mob,
can never ripen into manhood--it is a destroying brand, raging and
unextinguishable, devouring all around it, and destroying all that has
been built and beautified by the past. And how can we remain the Sages
and continue to develop and absorb all learning within the shelter
of our temples, not only without endangering the weak, but for their
benefit? You know and have sworn to act after that knowledge. To bind
the crowd to the faith and the institutions of the fathers is your
duty--is the duty of every priest. Times have changed, my son; under the
old kings the fire, of which I spoke figuratively to you--the poet--was
enclosed in brazen walls which the people passed stupidly by. Now I see
breaches in the old fortifications; the eyes of the uninitiated have
been sharpened, and one tells the other what he fancies he has spied,
though half-blinded, through the glowing rifts."

A slight emotion had given energy to the tones of the speaker, and while
he held the poet spell-bound with his piercing glance he continued:

"We curse and expel any one of the initiated who enlarges these
breaches; we punish even the friend who idly neglects to repair and
close them with beaten brass!"

"My father!" cried Pentaur, raising his head in astonishment while the
blood mounted to his cheeks. The high-priest went up to him and laid
both hands on his shoulders.

They were of equal height and of equally symmetrical build; even the
outline of their features was similar. Nevertheless no one would have
taken them to be even distantly related; their countenances were so
infinitely unlike in expression.

On the face of one were stamped a strong will and the power of firmly
guiding his life and commanding himself; on the other, an amiable desire
to overlook the faults and defects of the world, and to contemplate life
as it painted itself in the transfiguring magic-mirror of his poet's
soul. Frankness and enjoyment spoke in his sparkling eye, but the subtle
smile on his lips when he was engaged in a discussion, or when his soul
was stirred, betrayed that Pentaur, far from childlike carelessness, had
fought many a severe mental battle, and had tasted the dark waters of
doubt