Again she leapt, and this time the answer that came from her lips was spoken in another voice, which said, “I am present. What seek you?”
A third time the priestess leapt, replying in her own voice, “Health for thy servant who is sick.” Then came the answer in the second voice—“I hear you, but I see no sacrifice.”
“What sacrifice would’st thou, O Queen? A dove?”
“Nay.”
“What then, Queen?”
“One only, the first-born child of a woman.”
As this command, which they supposed to be divine and from above, issued out of the lips of the gashed and bleeding Pythoness, the multitude that hitherto had listened in perfect silence, shouted aloud, while the girl herself, utterly exhausted, fell to the earth swooning.
Now the high priest of El, who was named the Shadid, none other indeed than the husband of her who lay sick, sprang upon the platform and cried:—
“The goddess has spoken by the mouth of her oracle. She who is the mother of all demands one life out of the many she has given, that the Lady Baaltis, who is her priestess upon earth, may be recovered of her sickness. Say, who will lay down a life for the honour of the goddess, and that her regent in this land may be saved alive?”
Now—for all this scene had been carefully prepared—a woman stepped forward, wearing the robe of a priestess, who bore in her arms a drugged and sleeping child.