“Oh, I beg your pardon,” I exclaimed. “I did not mean to offend. I see now that that is merely one of your idols.”
Dar Tarus clapped a hand over my mouth. “S-s-s-t!” he cautioned to silence. “We do not worship idols—there is but one god and he is Tur!”
“Well, what are these?” I insisted, with a sweep of a hand that embraced the several score images about which were gathered the thousands of worshippers.
“We must not ask,” he assured me. “It is enough that we have faith that all the works of Tur are just and righteous. Come! I shall soon be through and we may join our companions.”
He led me next to the figure of a monstrosity with a mouth that ran entirely around its head. It had a long tail and the breasts of a woman. About this image were a great many people, each standing upon his head. They also were repeating, over and over, “Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur.” When we had done this for a minute or two, during which I had a devil of a time maintaining my equilibrium, we arose, dropped a coin into the box by the pedestal and moved on.
“We may go now,” said Dar Tarus. “I have done well in the sight of Tur.”
“I notice,” I remarked, “that the people repeated the same phrase before this figure that they did at the last—Tur is Tur.”
“Oh, no,” exclaimed Dar Tarus. “On the contrary they said just exactly the opposite from what they said at the other. At that they said, Tur is Tur; while at this they absolutely reversed it and said, Tur is Tur. Do you not see? They turned it right around backwards, which makes a very great difference.”
“It sounded the same to me,” I insisted.
“That is because you lack faith,” he said sadly, and we passed out of the temple, after depositing the rest of our money in a huge chest, of which there were many standing about almost filled with coins.