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"No," she answered, "the Silent Ones so command and for their own purposes. Yet do I think, Yolara, that you will have little time to feed your wickedness tell that to Lugur and to your Shining One!" she added slowly. Mockery and disbelief rode high in the priestess's pose. "Am I to return alone like this?" she asked.
Anson had died and that his apotheosis had taken place before his young priestess's induction to the temple, made her ministrations easier and more inspiring. There were no little personal traits such as the great man's manner of helping himself to salt, or the guttural cluck that started the wheels of speech to distract the eye of young veneration from the central fact of his divinity.
Norma yields to her entreaties, but when she inquires the name and country of her lover, and Adalgisa points to Pollione as he enters Norma's sanctuary, all the priestess's love turns to wrath. In this scene the duet, "Perdoni e ti compiango," is one of exceeding loveliness and peculiarly melodious tenderness.
Lakla shivered; gave a command. The frog-men moved about; peering here and there; lifting unseen folds revealing in stark rigidity torn form after form of the priestess's men. Lakla had been right her Akka were thorough fighters! She called, and to her came the frog-woman who was her attendant.
"It is well!" It was Lugur. "It is well, Yolara." It was a woman's voice, and I knew it for that old one of ravaged beauty. "Cast from your mind whatever is in it for this stranger either of love or hatred. In this the Council is with Lugur and the man of wisdom." There was a silence. Then came the priestess's voice, sullen but beaten. "It is well!"
Each broken bit of the crystal was vibrating, shaking its particles out into space. Broken it the bullet of Larry's had but not released it from the grip of the disintegrating force. The priestess's face was triumphant. "But what matters it, O shining urn of beauty what matters it to the vase that is broken what happens to its fragments?" asked Larry, gravely and pointedly.
'Ah, talking of superstition, now, says Eucrates, 'that reminds me: what do you make of oracles, for instance, and omens? of inspired utterances, of voices from the shrine, of the priestess's prophetic lines? You will deny all that too, of course?
"I will take the tall one named Larree." It was the priestess's voice. "After the three tal, you may have him, Lugur, to do with as you will." "No!" it was Lugur's voice again, but with a rasp of anger. "All must die." "He shall die," again Yolara. "But I would that first he see Lakla pass and that she know what is to happen to him." "No!" I started for this was Marakinoff.
The Vestal informed her bearers that she was likely to be absent some little time, and they must wait quietly without, and not annoy a dying man with unseemly laughter or loud conversation. Then, without hesitancy, Fabia gathered her priestess's cloak about her, and boldly entered the strange atrium. As she did so, the attendant noiselessly closed the door, and what was further, shot home a bolt.
Miss Mackall stood watching until they rounded the first bend. When she turned around, there stood Bela beside a big tree, a few feet to the side of the road. Evidently she had been hidden in the underbrush behind. Miss Mackall gasped in piteous terror and stood rooted to the spot. Bela's face was as relentless as a high priestess's. "I listen if you goin' tell him 'bout me," she said.
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