"Well," said he, with a smile, "art Thou not afraid, prince, to enter a Phoenician temple where cruelty sits on the altar and perversity ministers?"
"Fear?" repeated Ramses, looking at him almost contemptuously. "Astaroth is not Baal, nor am I a child which they might throw into your god's red-hot belly."
"But does the prince believe this story?"
Ramses shrugged his shoulders.
"An eyewitness and a trustworthy person," answered he, "told me how ye sacrifice children. Once a storm wrecked a number of tens of your vessels. Immediately the Tyrian priests announced a religious ceremony at which throngs of people collected." The prince spoke with evident indignation. "Before the temple of Baal situated on a lofty place was an immense bronze statue with the head of a bull. Its belly was red hot. At command of your priests the foolish Phoenician mothers put their most beautiful children at the feet of this cruel divinity."
"Only boys," interrupted Hiram.
"Only boys," continued Ramses. "The priests sprinkled each boy with perfumes, decked him with flowers, and then the statue seized him with bronze hands, opened its jaws, and devoured the child, whose screams meanwhile were heaven piercing. Flames burst each time from the mouth of the deity."
Hiram laughed in silence.
"And dost Thou believe this, worthiness?"
"I repeat what a man told me who has never lied."