He broke off. Then he continued: “Our new faith, for which we have now chosen the name of Abraxas, is beautiful, my friend. It is the best we have. But it is still a nestling. Its wings have not yet grown. Alas, a lonely religion, that is not yet the true one. It must become an affair of many, it must have cult and orgy, feasts and mysteries.⁠ ⁠…”

He was sunk in reflection.

“Can one not celebrate mysteries alone, or in a very small circle?” I asked hesitatingly.

“Yes, one can,” he nodded. “I have been celebrating them for a long time past. I have celebrated cults for which I should have been imprisoned for years in a convict station, if they had been found out. But I know it is not the right thing.”