It passed through Kalmim's mind, that if Assarac set such store by the discovery of Ishtar's refuge, the information she had power to give would only be of value so long as it was withheld. If she would get her price, she must beware of submitting her merchandise to the light of day. The good-will of her customer too must obviously be secured in the first instance.
"And you do not love her yourself, Beladon?" she sobbed. "You are sure of it—you will swear it—on—on—the altar of your god!"
The storm had lulled—yet not too suddenly. The heaving bosom, half-unveiled, though somewhat deep in colour, was not without its charms.
"By every altar of every god that reigns," answered the deluded priest. "By Ashtaroth, queen of love and light; by Baal, in whose very presence even now I stood; and by your own sweet self, whom I worship perhaps more fervently than all the host of heaven put together!"
"I cannot but believe you," she answered, smiling sweetly, while she abandoned her hand to his caresses. "Nay, it would make me very sad not to believe you, Beladon. Will you always be true to me?"
"Always!" he exclaimed, with an appearance of sincerity that might perhaps be attributed to his habit of making the same profession to every woman who was kind and fair.
She, too, was not without practice, and accepted the assurance calmly enough.
"You do love me," she whispered, "and, indeed, if ever I could bring myself to think of a priest, it should be one like—well, like Beladon, perhaps, though I sought in every temple through the land of Shinar till I found him. And now, if I tell you all I know, frankly and freely, will you promise me what I ask in return?"
"I promise," said he, pressing her hand to his lips.
"Will you swear?" she asked.