Thus far the priests and the spectators had listened to Issachar’s denunciations in bewildered amazement not unmixed with fear.  Now with a roar of wrath they awoke, and suddenly he was dragged from the platform by a score of hands and struck down with many blows.  Indeed, he would then and there have been torn to pieces had not a guard of soldiers, knowing that he was Sakon’s guest and in the train of the prince Aziel, snatched him from the maddened multitude, and borne him swiftly to a place of safety without the enclosure.

While the tumult was at its height, a Phoenician, who had arrived in the temple breathless with haste, might have been seen to pluck Metem by the sleeve.

“What is it?” Metem asked of the man, who was his servant.

“This:  the lady Baaltis is dead.  I watched as you bade me, and, as she had promised to do, in token of the end, her woman waved a napkin from the casement of that tower where she lies.”

“Do any know of this?”

“None.”

“Then say no word of it,” and Metem hurried off in search of Aziel.

Presently he found him seeking for Issachar in company with his guards.

“Have no fear, Prince,” Metem said, in answer to his eager questions, “he is safe enough, for the soldiers have borne the fool away.  Pardon me that I should speak thus of a holy man, but he has put all our lives in danger.”

“I do not pardon you,” answered Aziel hotly, “and I honour Issachar for his act and words.  Let us begone from this accursed place whither you entrapped me.”

Before Metem could reply a voice cried, “Close the doors of the sanctuary, so that none can pass in or go out, and let the sacrifice be offered.”

“Listen, Prince,” said Metem, “you must stay here till the ceremony is done.”

“Then I tell you, Phoenician,” answered Aziel, “that rather than suffer that luckless child to be butchered before my eyes I will cut my way to it with my guards, and rescue it alive.”

“To leave yourself dead in place of it,” answered Metem sarcastically; “but, see, a woman desires to speak with you,” and he pointed to a girl in the robe of a priestess, whose face was hidden with a veil, and who, in the tumult and confusion, had worked her way to Aziel.

“Prince,” whispered the veiled form, “I am Elissa.  For your life’s sake keep still and silent, or you will be stabbed, for your words have been overheard, and the priests are mad at the insult that has been put upon them.”

“Away with you, woman,” answered Aziel; “what have I to do with a girl of the groves and a murderess of children?”

She winced at his bitter words, but said quietly:—­

“Then on your own head be your blood, Prince, which I have risked much to keep unshed.  But before you die, learn that I knew nothing of this foul sacrifice, and that gladly would I give my own life to save that of yonder child.”