Now Aziel looked towards him who held the bowl of incense.  But Elissa who all this while had stood silent, stepped forward and spoke:—­

“Prince Aziel,” she said in a calm and quiet voice, “I named you husband to save your life, but with all my strength I pray of you, do not this thing to save mine, which is of little value and perhaps best ended.  Remember, prince Aziel, that being what you are, a Jew, this act of offering, however small it seems, is yet the greatest of sins, and one with which you should not dare to stain your soul for the sake of a woman, who has chanced to love you to your sorrow.  Be guided, therefore, by the true wisdom of Issachar and by my humble prayer.  Make an end of your doubts and let me die, knowing that we do but part a while, since in the Gate of Death I shall wait for you, prince Aziel.”

Before Aziel could answer, the Shadid, either because his patience was outworn, or because he wished to put him to a sharper trial, uttered a command.  “Be it done to her as she desires.”

Thereon four priests seized Elissa by the wrists and ankles.  Carrying her to the edge of the precipice, they thrust her back till she hung over it, her long hair streaming downwards, and the red light of the sunset shining upon her upturned ghastly face.  Then they paused, waiting for the signal to let her go.  The Shadid raised his wand and said:—­

“Is it your pleasure that this woman should die or live, prince Aziel?  Decide swiftly, for my arm is weak, and when the wand falls opportunity for choice will have passed from you.”

Now all eyes were fixed upon the wand, and the intense silence was only broken by Sakon’s cry of despair.  Metem wrung his hands in grief; even Issachar veiled his eyes with his robe, to shut out the sight of dread, and the priest, who bore the bowl of incense, thrust it towards Aziel imploringly.

For some seconds, three perhaps, though to him they seemed an age, the heart of Aziel was racked and torn in this terrific contest.  Then he glanced at the agonized face of the doomed woman, and just as the wand began to bend, his human love and pity conquered.

“May He Whom I blaspheme forgive me,” he murmured, adding aloud, “I will do sacrifice.”  Taking the incense in his hand now he cast it into the flames upon the altar, repeating mechanically after the Shadid:  “By this sacrifice and homage, body and soul I give myself to you and worship you, El and Baaltis, the only true gods.”

*****

The echo of Aziel’s voice died away, and the fumes of the incense rose in a straight dense column upon that quiet air.  To his tormented mind, it seemed as though its smoke took the form of an avenging angel, holding in the hand a sword of flame, wherewith to drive away his perjured soul from Heaven, as our first forefathers were driven from the shining gates of paradise.  Yes, and they were not human, those spectators who, in the intense glow of the sunset, stood in their still ranks and stared at him with wide and eager eyes.  Surely they were fiends red with the blood of men, fiends gathered from the Pit to bear everlasting witness to the unpardonable sin of his apostasy.