“Nay,” he answered, “it is the blessing of Isis that I am about to call upon my lips, O most Beautiful, O Loveliness incarnate!”
He came on. He was past the marble altar. His fierce, bestial face glared into mine and he gripped me; his hot arm was about me, he dragged me to his embrace, while all the beasts of his company shouted in vile joy.
I let fall the sistrum that I held. The moment of mercy had gone by. That shout had sealed the doom of all those dogs and satyrs. It was the signal!
By the arts known to us instantly the command was passed on to her who waited below. Instantly this fierce-souled destroyer was at her work with lamp and torch. Never did lover run so swiftly to her lover’s side as she did from pile to pile, firing the oil, firing the reeds.
Now that brute-king had me! He pressed his hot kisses upon my breast, upon my lips. I stood still. I struggled not. I stood like the statue of the goddess. This cold calm of mine seemed to frighten him.
“Are you woman?” he asked, hesitating.
“Nay,” I hissed back, “I am Isis. Woe to them who lay hands upon Isis!”
He unloosed. He stood staring at me, and as he stared I saw his face change.
“What is in your eyes?” he asked. “All the devils in Egypt are looking out of your eyes.”
“Nay,” I answered, “all the devils of hell look out of my eyes. Isis commands the devils of hell and unchains them, O death-clothed king.”