where people were assembled.  Here the bandage was removed from his eyes.  He stepped backwards, recoiling involuntarily at the glare of light that poured upon him from the setting sun, whereon, uttering an exclamation, those who stood near seized and held him.  Presently he saw the reason.  He was standing on the brink of a precipice at the back of and dominating the dim and shadow-clad city, while far beneath him lay a gloomy rift along which ran the trade road to the coast.

Here in this dizzy spot was a wide space of rock, walled in upon three sides.  The precipice formed the fourth side of its square, in which, seated upon stones that seemed to have been set there in semi-circles to serve as judgment chairs, were gathered the head priests and priestesses of El and Baaltis, clad in their sacerdotal robes.  To the right and left of these stood knots of favoured spectators, among whom Aziel recognised Metem and Sakon, while at his side, but separated from him by armed priests, were Elissa herself, wrapped in a dark veil, and Issachar.  Lastly, in front of him, a fire flickered upon a little altar, and behind the altar stood a shrine containing a symbolical effigy of Baaltis fashioned of gold, ivory and wood to the shape of a woman with a hundred breasts.

Seeing all this, Aziel understood that they three had been brought here for trial, and that the priests and priestesses before him were their judges.  Indeed, he remembered that the place had been pointed out to him as one where those who had offended against the gods were carried for judgment.  Thence, if found guilty, such unfortunates were hurled down the face of the precipice and left, a shapeless mass of broken bone, to crumble on the roadway at its foot.

After a long and solemn pause, at a sign from the Shadid, he who had been the husband of the dead Baaltis, the veil was removed from Elissa.  At once she turned, looked at Aziel, and smiled sadly.

“Do you know the fate that waits us?” the prince asked of Issachar in Hebrew.

“I know, and I am ready,” answered the old Levite, “for since my soul is safe I care little what these dogs may do to my body.  But, oh! my son, I weep for you, and cursed be the hour when first you saw that woman’s face.”

“Spare to reproach me in my misfortune,” murmured Elissa; “have I not enough to bear, knowing that I have brought death upon him I love?  Oh! curse me not, but pray that my sins may be forgiven me.”

“That I will do gladly, daughter,” replied Issachar more gently, “the more so that, although you seem to be the cause of them, these things can have happened only by the will of Heaven.  Therefore I was wrong to revile you, and I ask your pardon.”

Before she could answer the Shadid commanded silence.  At the same moment the woman Mesa stepped from behind the effigy of the goddess on the shrine.

“Who are you and what do you here?” asked the Shadid, as though he did not know her.