Even as his hand fell had he become as it were transfixed. The hand that lay heavily, began to press heavily; the entire body grew in rigidity; and a deathlike pallor was overspreading his face. Atlano, who had been gazing alarmed, demanded:
“Oltis, what aileth thee? Cease that staring.”
But Oltis continued to stare, and remain rigid. Fearful was it to see his pallor, even amid this deathlike repose, increase. Hafoe, wan and trembling, lifted his hand from the table. But it fell a dead weight. The eyes, in their growing glassiness, were horrible. Hafoe cried:
“Oltis, dost thou live?” But not a quiver of the eyelids answered, although the eyes lost none of their intelligence.
Stonily they watched, wondering if he would come out of this to laugh at them. Finally Atlano spoke.
“Oltis, cease thy spells. Wouldst thou have us as thyself?”
Upon this, the king arose stiffly, and, with some exertion, walked beside him to gaze in his face, and feel of his skin.
“Oltis, thou art a corpse, with life in it! What—aileth—thee?”
But Oltis replied not save by his eloquent eyes. Every other part of him was marble. Nervously, Atlano bade a priest bring the life cordial. This was applied to brow and nostrils, but had no effect. Still Oltis was as dead, except in glance.
Thus, Atlano sat down. To the terrified priests who had gathered about the stricken one, he said: