Onrai ceased praying and the sweet voices and the music of the harps again broke forth. Now the voices grew fainter, the music more subdued, the lights growing dimmer and dimmer. Now the voices were almost whispering, the strains of music are dying, dying, the lights are flickering. At last all is hushed and dark. Suddenly the Temple was flooded with brilliant light, a glorious grand flood of song and music burst forth. More brilliant becomes the light, louder and grander grows the music, as if from a thousand voices, as if from a thousand harps. Now comes a troop of maidens robed in shimmering white, singing and playing. Lightly they trip over the polished floor, their forms swaying and their limbs bending gracefully as they dance.
Our friends hold their breath for fear of losing one strain of the sweet music; they lean forward eagerly to catch every movement of the willowy figures. All is grand beyond conception. The music becomes more soul-stirring, the dance grows quicker, the lights blinding in their brilliancy. Our friends arise in their eagerness to see and hear. ’Tis glorious!
Suddenly the maidens leave the room, the song and music cease, the lights are darkened. ’Tis over.
The night of prayer with its grand and imposing ceremonies had passed, and now the party had again assembled and were partaking of the morning meal preparatory to starting on the day’s journey. It was yet very early, for in this equatorial climate the journeys had to be taken in the cool of the mornings and evenings. The sun’s rays in the middle of the day were too hot to withstand. Through the open door could be seen the elephants and zebras trapped and waiting for the start. Nearby stood, not only the attendants, but also the party which had arrived the night before. Turning to Onrai, Enola asked:
“Are those who came from the city also to accompany us, Onrai?”
“Yes,” answered Onrai, “it is essential that they should go with us, for we shall not have returned to the city before the night of prayer shall have again come, and on this night we must have a priest and attendants.”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE ACCUSATION.
The heat of the day had been excessive, but our friends had not suffered to any great extent because of the shade which the avenue trees had afforded; and then they had rested during the midday hour, and had not taken up the journey until late in the afternoon. Then, too, the brisk trot of the animals, as they moved over the smooth stone pavement, had created a breeze which was very cooling to the riders; but as they emerged from the forest, dark clouds were seen rising out of the west; dark, forboding clouds, which portended rain and probably a hard blow. The forerunner of this equatorial storm reached them before they arrived at the villa, in the shape of quick, rapidly moving gusts of wind, which would overtake them and moving on would leave the air perfectly calm, hot and humid, until the next gust would spring out of the ground seemingly, and fly after its leaders.
The riders hurried on, one minute fanned by a refreshing breeze and the next almost sweltering in the dead calm. But they suffered only a short time, as the villa was reached and once inside its cool, onyx walls, all thought of the humidity of the outside was forgotten, and the on-coming storm was only thought of as making the air cool for the morrow’s journey. After dinner the travelers went into the garden and hardly any signs were seen now of the approaching storm; in fact, the evening was much the same as had been many others since their arrival. They retired late but had not slept long when the wind rose almost to a gale. The storm was a novelty, and our friends never having seen an equatorial storm, all arose and went on the terrace.
The elephants had already sniffed the approaching storm and began to throw their trunks in the air, moving their huge ears back and forth, all the time making those funny sounds, which seemed so strange in such large animals. The storm meant to them a refreshing bath, coupled with a feed of grass and herbs washed by the cooling rain; they gloried in it. The zebras were already grazing, or half buried in the long grass, were rolling and kicking, happy to be free from bridle and saddle.