.. mumbled his
disciple.... The sun still shone on the cold stone flagging, and upon
the wall facing him hung the crucifix. But the motes no longer danced
merrily in the light. Evening was setting in apace, and Hyzlo, accepting
one dream as equal in veracity with the other, crossed to the embrasure
and, his elbows on the sill, watched the sun--looking like a
sulphur-coloured cymbal--sink behind the sky-line. He was still in the
same attitude when the blue of the heavens--ah! but not that gorgeous,
hard Alexandrian blue--melted into peacock and cool saffron hues. He
mused aloud:--
"By the very nature of his mental organs man can never grasp reality. It
is always the sensation, never the real thing, he feels. The
metaphysicians are right. We can never know the actual world outside of
ourselves. We are imprisoned in a dream cage; the globe itself is a cage
of echoes. Science, instead of contradicting religion, has but affirmed
its truths. Matter is radiant energy--matter is electric phenomenon. The
germ-plasma from which we stem--the red clay of Genesis--is eternal.
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