“Then,—‘Chief of the Priests, Urgis.’” And Hellen bowed to the ground, but with little of reverence.
His manner was not lost upon Oltis. Though smooth his tones, his eyes emitted a lurid satisfaction.
“He who cometh into that passage not bidden, mocketh the holy laws of the temple. There is sore pain for this sin.”
“There should be sore pain, then, for other sins. The presence of the handmaids is a sin. Are the gods waiting?”
Sensel’s eyes were piercing the rash Hellen, in their indignation. Further, did they contain warning? It seemed as though the latter predominated as Hellen looked from Oltis to him. As for Oltis, he was exultant; though most grave was his expression.
“The youth would chide us of the great temple—would even chide the gods. For such sin there is worse than pain. He will go to the ‘Deeps.’—Sensel, the guards!”
Sensel turned as if to obey, and then paused to arrange his sandal.
“Hasten, Sensel. Every moment he doth stay bringeth taint to the temple.”
“Taint!” returned Hellen. “It is ye—thyself and Oltis—who bring taint upon the temple!—Thou, Oltis, hast brought upon its face the black look of guile, the slime of sense, the marring of every line of that pure grace so long its own.—Tell me, where are the handmaids thou didst thrust into thine inner holy place? Are they to be my neighbors in thy ‘Deeps’?”
It was a revelation, the shrinking back of the two. Never before had been such braving, such questioning! Sensel and Hellen read but the one thing from their cowering attitude.