But the most astonishing scene still
awaited us.
Just before our vessel reached the landing stage, the enormous tower,
from foot to apex, broke out with all the hues of the rainbow, like an
enchanted rose tree covered with millions of brilliant flowers at the
touch of a wand. The effect was overwhelming. The air became tremulous
with rippling colors, whose vibrant waves, with quick succession of
concordant tints afforded to the eye an exquisite pleasure akin to that
which the ear receives from a carillon of bells. Our companions, and the
people crowded on the towers, seemed to be transported with ecstatic
delight.
"Again the music of the spectrum!" cried Edmund. "The diapason of color!
It is their national hymn, or the hymn of their race, written on a
prismatic, instead of a sonometric, staff. And, mark me, this has a
significance beyond your conjectures!"
I believe that our enjoyment of this astonishing spectacle was hardly
less than that of the natives themselves, but the pleasure was suddenly
broken off by a tragedy that struck cold to our hearts.
We had nearly touched the landing, when we observed that a discussion was
going on between Ala and Ingra, and it quickly became evident that we
were the subject of it.
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