nous,--like the lowering autumn cloud.

Let us dismiss him.

No, no. It gives us heart, when he sits there.

Don't you see that there is no sign of fear in his face?

It seems as if some messages were striking his forehead. His body
appears to espy some one in the distance. There seem to be eyes
on the tips of his fingers.

Simply by watching him, we can see that some one is coming
through the dark.

Look. He is standing up. He is turning towards the East, and
making his obeisance.

Yet there is nothing to be seen, not even a streak of light.

Why not ask him what it is that he sees?

No, don't disturb him.

Do you know, it seems to me that the morning has dawned in him.

As if the ferry-boat of light had reached the shore of his
forehead.

His mind is still, like the morning sky.

The storm of birds' songs will burst out presently.

He is striking his lute. His heart is singing.

Hush. He is singing.

(_The Minstrel sings._)

_Victory to thee, victory for ever,
O brave heart.
Victory to life, to joy, to love,
To eternal light.
The night shall wane, the darkness shall vanish,
Have faith, brave heart.
Wake up from sleep, from languor of despair,
Receive the light of new dawn with a song._

(_A ray of light hovers before the cavern._)

Ah! There he is. Chandra! Chandra!

Hush. Don't make any noise. I cannot see him distinctly.

Ah! It cannot be any other than Chandra.

Oh, what joy!

Chandra! Come!

Chandra! How could you leave us for so long?

Have you been able to capture the Old Man?

_Chandra_

Yes, I have.

But we don't see him.

_Chandra_

He is coming.

But what did you see in the cave? Tell us.

_Chandra_

No, I cannot tell you.

Why?

_Chandra_

If my mind were a voice, then I could tell you.

But could you see him, whom you captured? Was he the Old Man of
the World?

The Old Man who would like to drink up the sea of youth in his
insatiable thirst.

Was it the One who is like the dark night, whose eyes are fixed
on his breast, whose feet are turned the wrong way round, who
walks backwards?

Was it the One who wears the garland of skulls, and lives in the
burning-ground of the dead?

_Chandra_

I do not know, I cannot say. But he is coming. You shall see him.

_Minstrel_

Yes, I see him.

[_The light strengthens and gradually throughout the scene grows
to a culminating brilliance at the close._]

Where?