When the king showed no disapproval, the murmurs of dissent grew louder, and even began to swell above the anthem the priests were raising to the accompaniment of the minstrels. But this anthem was long, and in honor of Poseidon, and of such beauty that the dissenting ones began to listen, charmed. When it ceased, the vast assemblage had calmed.
Then Oltis swept before the altar to chant with melodious voice an invocation to Poseidon, the while heaping upon it the fruits and flowers the people presented for offering. When the altar could hold no more, he turned and implored blessings from the gods in return for the virtues of their monarch. He dwelt long upon the king’s moderation, justice, self-command, generosity, love of truth, freedom from covetousness and sensuality in so fulsome a manner that Hellen writhed; and next caught himself groaning as he wondered over the easy forbearance of this listening people.
When Oltis had finished, and was raising his head proudly to survey the immense audience, Hellen took in as never before his strong likeness to Atlano. Both were tall, powerfully formed, strong featured, slightly receding of forehead and chin, red of skin, and fiery-eyed. But, in Oltis’ face was a look of dissimulation and craft that repelled even more than Atlano’s sensual expression. In a flash Hellen understood.
“Ah,” thought he, “Oltis hath aims beyond this temple. Can it be that he pandereth to Atlano with the view to be king himself? That royal robe meaneth much!”
While Oltis stood gazing at the people, and receiving with unconcern their dissatisfied looks, a great stir was heard in the entrance hall. As this increased, every eye that could turned to the portal, to behold there entering—Queen Atlana with her ladies, whilst Azu himself held up her long purple train!
At this most unusual appearance, the audience went wild—smiling, waving their hands, bursting into enthusiastic cries. The Atlanteans loved their queen, and her long absence from worship had been wondered at and deplored. Her vacant chair had been a protest of which they had not felt free to speak. But now all must be right, as she was coming back. So they went wild of their delight.
The astonished king had arisen. Oltis stood fixed and staring. Queen Atlana, crowned, clad in purple and gold, and ablaze with jewels, slowly advanced—the people joyfully giving way—until she had come nigh the king. With her ladies’ assistance she mounted the few steps of the dais; and sank into the chair she had been wont to occupy at the side of the king, but which now was placed toward the edge of the dais. Then her ladies formed about her, and, following her example, bent in prayer.
Intense had grown the quiet. They were as spellbound, waiting for the queen to raise her head. When she did, it was to look toward the king. But his face was averted. Then her glance was toward the priests. Breathlessly watched the people. How would she accept the high priest’s latest profanity?
Her eye was quick to distinguish Oltis in his royal robing. And she started violently. For this the people were prepared. But the olden spirit of Atlantis stirred within them, when, accepting to the full his intent, she arose and stared at him, astounded!
Despite himself, Oltis’ eyes fell beneath hers. This encouraged the awakening islanders, who began to murmur rebelliously, even to hiss. Yes, it had come to this—a high priest of Atlantis was suffering indignity in the temple, and from its worshipers!