And lo, these many years I worship him!
My thoughts are troubled,--I am very old,
But still a King! O Naaman, be patient!
Priest, let the sacrifice be offered.
[The High Priest lifts his rod. Gongs and cymbals sound. The curtain is rolled back, disclosing the image of Rimmon; a gigantic and hideous idol, with a cruel human face, four horns, the mane of a lion, and huge paws stretched in front of him enclosing a low altar of black stone. RUAHMAH stands on the altar, chained, her arms are bare and folded on her breast. The people prostrate themselves in silence, with signs of astonishment and horror.]
REZON:
Behold the sacrifice! Bow down, bow down!
NAAMAN: [Stabbing him.]
Bow thou, black priest! Down,--down to hell!
Ruahmah! do not die! I come to thee,