This was the text:

Moreover, the king made a great throne of ivory, and overlaid the arms of it with fine gold.

The throne had six steps, and the top of the throne was round behind, and there were stays on either side of the place of the seat, and two lions stood beside the stays.

At first, as I have said, the words fell quite idly on my ears. Then, without any effort on my part, a throne made of ivory, its arms overlaid with fine gold, seemed to flash before my eyes. I tried to resume the thread of my thought again, but the vision of the throne of ivory with the two lions at the side haunted my excited brain. All at once, with a shock of surprise, I knew why it stood before me with such startling distinctness. The throne of the automaton of the eighth hour was of ivory, its arms were of gold, it had six steps, and two lions crouched on either side.

At first I was merely astonished at the similarity of the throne of the Bible and the throne of the da Sestos clock. But other scenes of the hours sprang before my mind in review. I remembered 187the hour of St. Mark and the lion; the Council of Ten before the Gate; the Sultan and the kneeling slave. The scenes stopped abruptly there. In a flash, almost without thought, certainly without deliberate reasoning, I had fathomed the secret of the clock:

The scenes of the twelve hours were not Venetian scenes. They were Bible scenes disguised in an environment that was Venetian.

I could parallel each of the three hours that had occurred to me with familiar stories of the Bible. The scene of the first hour, the figure of St. Mark and the lion, as we had thought, was really Samson and the lion; the Sultan and the kneeling slave were David and the prostrate giant, Goliath. The Doge receiving the news of victory from the dove in the Campanile became Noah and the dove. But the other scenes–would they be equally clear?

I took the first scene that occurred to me, that in which the ten disks appear in succession, with the gate in the background. I took a Bible from the rack of the pew and opened it eagerly at the Book of Genesis. My knowledge of the Old Testament was not profound. I turned the leaves over quickly, scanning each page. I had to look simply for a passage in which a gate and ten men figured. I became unconscious of the reverent 188worshipers about me. I was heedless even of good form. For half an hour I patiently turned page after page. I had reached the Book of Judges, and began to despair. Was this theory that promised so well to be discarded in its turn like a dozen others? No; I found the passage. It proved my theory to be a fact beyond peradventure. The passage was in the Book of Ruth:

Then went Boaz to the gate and sat him there, and behold, the kinsman of whom Boaz spoke, came by, unto whom he said, Ho, such a one, turn aside, sit down here. And he turned aside and sat down.

And he took ten men of the elders of the city, and said, Sit down here. And they sat down.

Nothing could be more clear. The Doge became Boaz; the ten disks, representing, as we had thought, the Council of Ten, were the elders of the city.

I read the story of Samson and the lion. It was indisputably the scene of the first hour. The very words were a challenge–a clear statement in black and white–that he who should solve the riddle of the clock would have his reward. And he who failed should have his penalty to pay–the forfeiture of peace of mind and content–a bitter enough wage for failure:

And Samson............