“I would go up into the presence of the Hathor.”
“No woman hath willed to look upon the Hathor,” said the priest.
Then again Rei made the secret sign, but still the priest wavered.
“Let me pass, thou foolish warden,” said Rei. “I am a messenger from the Gods.”
“If thou art a mortal messenger, woman, thou goest to thy doom,” said the priest.
“On my head be it,” answered Rei, and the priest let him pass wondering.
Now he stood before the doors of the Alabaster Shrine that glowed with the light within. Still Rei paused not, only uttering a prayer that he might be saved from the unseen swords; he lifted the latch of bronze, and entered fearfully. But none fell upon him, nor was he smitten of invisible spears. Before him swung the curtains of Tyrian web, but no sound of singing came from behind the curtains. All was silence in the Shrine. He passed between the curtains and looked up the Sanctuary. It was lit with many hanging lamps, and by their light he saw the Goddess Helen, seated between the pillars of her loom. But she wove no more at the loom. The web of fate was rent by the Wanderer’s hands, and lay on either side, a shining cloth of gold. The Goddess Helen sat songless in her lonely Shrine, and on her breast gleamed the Red Star of light that wept the blood of men. Her head rested on her hand, and her heavenly eyes of blue gazed emptily down the empty Shrine.
Rei drew near trembling, though she seemed to see him not at all, and at last flung himself upon the earth before her. Now at length she saw him, and spoke in her voice of music.
“Who art thou that dares to break in upon my sorrow?” she said wonderingly. “Art thou indeed a woman come to look on one who by the will of the Gods is each woman’s deadliest foe?”
Then Rei raised himself saying: