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"It is magnificent to be such a willing " added Schliemann, sidling up to him with a dreadful leer on his face. He made use of the same word "Opfer." "God! What could it all mean?" "Offer himself!" "True spirit of devotion!" "Willing," "unselfish," "magnificent!" Opfer, Opfer, Opfer! What in the name of heaven did it mean, that strange, mysterious word that struck such terror into his heart?
"I came here for a friendly visit," he tried to say with a great effort, but, to his intense dismay, he heard his voice saying something quite different, and actually making use of that very word they had all used: "I came here as a willing Opfer," he heard his own voice say, "and I am quite ready." He was lost beyond all recall now!
At the same instant, too, he suddenly understood the meaning of that unremembered word. The import of the word "Opfer" flashed upon his soul like a message of death. He thought of making a wild effort to reach the door, but the weakness of his trembling knees, and the row of black figures that stood between, dissuaded him at once.
He made a valiant effort to keep his presence of mind and hold his nerves steady. Turning, he saw that Kalkmann's face was a dead white. Kalkmann! He understood that well enough. Kalkmann meant "Man of Chalk": he knew that. But what did "Opfer" mean? That was the real key to the situation.
It is your willingness and nobility that have so completely won our veneration and respect." A faint murmur of applause ran round the room. "What we all delight in what our great Master will especially delight in is the value of your spontaneous and voluntary " He used a word Harris did not understand. He said "Opfer."
Schiller's version runs thus: Der ganze Saal war Ohr, jedweder Mund verschlossen, Und Fuerst Aeneas, hingegossen Auf hohem Polstersitz, begann: Dein Wille, Koenigin, macht Wunden wieder bluten, Die keine Sprache schildern kann: Wie Trojas Stadt verging in Feuerfluten, Den Jammer willst du wissen, die Gefahr, Wovon ich Zeuge, ach, und meistens Opfer war.
Words poured through his disordered mind in an endless stream unusual, rare words he had perhaps heard but once in his life while "Opfer," a word in common use, entirely escaped him. What an extraordinary mockery it all was!
"And I also," said the scholar, solemnly. "Listen, your majesty, and be pleased to take the book and compare as I read;" then with a loud nasal voice he read his translation: "'Mit ungleich gluecklicherm Geschicke, Gebeut die Koenigin zarter Pein, Hin, Deine schoenen Augenblicke, Zum Opfer noch einmal zu weihn, Den Holzstoss liebt man aufzugeben, Der Altar glaenzt, des Weihrauchs Duefte Durchdringen schon die weiten Luefte, Das Opfer wird gedoppelt schoen, Durch Amors Glut ist es verflogen, Und das Geheimniss wird vollzogen."
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