"I know, I know. But there is still time. It is a matter of—of faith—of peace of mind."
The man shuffled his feet.
"It—it is impossible," he said.
"Why impossible?"
"Because the Prophet is exalted to-night. The Arch-Mystics themselves are guarding the Threshold. The Prophet is exalted; he must not be disturbed."
"But if it is necessary to disturb him? If there is a Soul in danger?"
"The Prophet must not be disturbed. What are we, that we should thrust our wrong-doing or our sorrow upon the Mighty One?"
At the words a rage of apprehension shook Enid. She lifted her head, and her fingers closed fiercely round the iron bar that topped the railing.
"Silence!" she said, excitedly. "You do not know what you are saying! The Prophet sets his people high above himself. The message of a Soul in distress is of more value in his eyes than a hundred moments of exaltation. Take care that his wrath does not fall upon you!"
Involuntarily the man paled.