"Yes."
"Watch then."
The magician pointed to the depth of the cave where stood a tripod of
Corinthian bronze, vomiting smoke. A tempestuous noise filled the
cavern--
"Hercules! Hercules! Deliver me!"
The smoke vanished; blue sky appeared. Julian lay stretched motionless
and pale, watching through half-shut eyelids the rapid visions
unfolded before him. It was as if someone commanded him to see them.
He beheld clouds and snow-clad mountains, and heard the breaking of
distant waves. Slowly he perceived an enormous body, chained hand and
foot to crags. A kite was devouring the liver of the Titan, drops of
black blood trickled down his side; the great chains rattled, and the
whole body shuddered with pain.
"Deliver me, Hercules!"
And the Titan raised his shaggy head; his eyes met those of the youth
entranced--
"Who art thou? Whom dost thou summon?" asked Julian, speaking heavily
in his dream.
"I call on thee!"
"I am but a mortal, and helpless."
"Thou art my brother; set me free!"
"Who has chained thee up anew?"
"The humble, the gentle,--who through cowardice forgive their enemies.
Slaves! slaves!... O deliver me!"
"How can I deliver thee?"
"Be even as I am."
The smoke of the tripod obscured the apparition. Julian woke for a
moment and the great hierophant, the teacher of rites, asked--
"Do you wish to see the ruined Archangel?"
"Yes."
"Behold him!"
In the white smoke appeared faintly a head between two gigantic
wings. The feathers of the wings swept out, drooping like branches of
yew, and a bluish tint as of some lost sky trembled upon the
melancholy plumes.