Then bowing low and elegantly to the queen, he darted away in his most undulatory fashion.
“What a strange being,” exclaimed Queen Atlana. “But I like him.”
“So do we,” murmured Æole, and blushed.
CHAPTER XII.
THE EARTHQUAKE CONFOUNDS.
In the inner sanctuary, the lamps were casting feeble radiance, the altar fire acting strangely capricious, when Atlano, Oltis, Urgis, and the superior priests met for conference upon the day’s awful events.
Close they drew their couches, and reclined to cast about them looks serious, apprehensive. Only too apparent was the ease affected by Atlano and Oltis as they surveyed the dark countenances upon which alarm was setting its seal—as they averted their faces from the majestic, upright figure that was eyeing them so fixedly.
This silent one—how they were longing to fall upon him, to strangle, to trample him under their feet! What was the strange power that held them—that forced them to his will? Cravens had they become!
After an ominous quiet of some minutes, and when Atlano was beginning to chafe under the anxious gaze of these white-robed, imposing figures, he said, with affected buoyancy,
“This night we meet not here for mirth. The troubles of the day claim our thought. But, first, I would ask are any among you shaken—weak of spirit?”
They looked at each other in doubt how to answer. Finally, Hafoe, a priest old in wickedness, spoke out.