Fortunately no one appeared to notice Theos’s deliberate non-observance of the homage due to her,—­no one except..  Lysia, herself.  She met the open defiance, scorn, and reluctant admiration of his glance, . . and a cold smile dawned on her features, . . a smile more dreadful in its very sweetness than any frown, . . then, turning away her beautiful, fathomless, slumberous eyes and still keeping her arms raised, she lifted up her voice, a voice mellow as a golden flute, that pierced the silence with a straight arrow of pure sound, and chanted: 

“Give glory to the Sun, O ye people! for his Light doth illumine your darkness!”

And the murmur of the mighty crowd surged back in answer: 

“We give him glory!”

Here came a brief clash of brazen bells, and when the clamor ceased, Lysia continued: 

“Give glory to the Moon, O ye people! ... for she is the servant of the Sun and the Ruler of the House of Sleep!”

Again the people responded;

“We give her glory!’.. and again the bells jangled tempestuously.

“Give glory to Nagaya, O ye people! for he alone can turn aside the wrath of the Immortals!”

“We give him glory!".. rejoined the multitude,—­and “We give him glory! seemed to be shouted high among the arches of the Temple with a strange sound as of the mocking laughter of devils.”

This preliminary over, there came out of unseen doors on both sides of the Sanctuary twenty priests in companies of ten each; ten advancing from the left, ten from the right.  These were clad in flowing garments of carnation-colored silk, heavily bordered with gold, and the leader of the right-hand group was the priest Zel.  His demeanor was austere and dignified, . . he carried a square cushion covered in black, on which lay a long, thin cruel-looking knife with a jewelled hilt.  The chief of the priests, who stood on the left, bore a very tall and massive staff of polished ebony, which he solemnly presented to the High Priestess, who grasped it firmly in one slight hand and allowed it to rest steadily on the ground, while its uppermost point reached far above her head.

Then followed the strangest, weirdest scene that even the pen of poets or brush of painter devised, . . a march round and round the Temple of all the priests, bearing lighted flambeaux and singing in chorus a wild Litany,—­a confused medley of supplications to the Sun and Nagaya, which, accompanied as it was by the discordant beating drums and the clanging of bells, had an evidently powerful effect on the minds of the assembled populace, for presently they also joined in the maddening chant, and growing more and more possessed by the contagious fever of fanaticism, began to howl and shriek and clap their hands furiously, creating a frightful din suggestive of some fiendish clamor in hell.