Here, before the golden doors on which the lightning glimmered fitfully, we descended and were led by white-robed men bearing lanterns, through various courts to the inner sanctuary of the god, on the threshold of which I crossed myself, not loving the company of heathen idols.  So far as I could see by the lamplight it was a great and glorious place, and everywhere that the eye fell was gold—­places of gold on the walls, offerings of gold upon the floor, stars of gold upon the roof.  The strange thing about this holy place, however, was that it seemed to be quite empty except for the aforesaid gold.  There was neither altar nor image—­nothing but a lamp-lit void.

Here all prostrated themselves, save I alone, and prayed in silence.  When they rose again, in a whisper I asked of Kari where was the god.  To which he answered:  “Nowhere, yet everywhere.”  This I thought a true saying, and indeed so solemn was that place that I felt as though I were surrounded by that which is divine.

After a while the priests, who were gorgeously apparelled, led us across the sanctuary to a door that opened upon some stairs.  Down these stairs we went into a long passage that seemed to run beneath the earth, for the air in it was heavy.  When we had walked a hundred paces or more in this narrow place, we came to other steps and another door, passing through which we found ourselves in a second temple, smaller than that which we had visited, but like to it rich with gold.  In the centre of this temple sat the image of a man rudely fashioned of gold.

“Behold Rimac the Speaker!” whispered Kari.

“How can gold speak?” I asked.

Kari made no answer.

Presently the priests began to mutter prayers and incantations that I thought unholy, after which they laid offerings of what looked like raw flesh set in cups of gold before the idol, that I thought unholier still.  Lastly they drew back and asked of what we would learn.

I made no answer who did not like the business.  Nor did Kari say anything, but Quilla spoke out boldly, saying that we would learn of the future and what would befall us.

Now there was a long silence, and I confess that fear got hold of me, for it seemed to me as though spirits were moving in the air and through the darkness behind us—­yes, as though I could hear their whisperings and the rustle of their wings.  Suddenly, at the end of this silence, the golden image in front of us began to glow as though it were molten, and the emerald eyes that were set in its head to sparkle terribly, which frightened me so much that had it not been for shame’s sake I would have run away, but because of this stood still and prayed to St. Hubert to protect me from the devil and his works.  Presently I prayed still harder, for the image began to speak—­yes, in a horrid, whistling voice it spoke, although no one was near to it.  These were the words it said: