"Let my veil be brought, that I may put it upon me."
From the corner where it had lain, carefully folded by Beltani, Bazuzu brought it to her—the soft, black, silver-shot covering of her happiness. In silence he watched the woman put it on, wrapping it about her so that her head, her face, her arms, her form, were completely shrouded. Then, from behind the veil, she spoke:
"Let no man evermore seek to behold me in my disfigurement. Behold, no longer am I Istar, but a wanderer over the face of the earth. I go forth from this house of friendliness. The voice of the great God bids me follow out my life in desert places, in the lands of my enemies."
Bazuzu, from her words still believing her more than mortal, bent his head in silent acceptance of her desires. She took two or three quiet steps to the door, and then, when he had thought her gone, turned again, and softly said:
"Thou, Bazuzu, and thy mistress, and the young Greek whose house this is, take what thanks I have to give thee, and the blessing of All-Father for thy mercy to me, an outcast. Gold have I none, nor riches of any sort in payment for your labor. But from my heart I bless thee for thy compassion."
Then, like a shadow, she glided out at the door, across the deserted square, down to the canal of the New Year, and along its bank, out into the city. Through the long morning she moved through the streets, accosting no one, stared at by the multitude, but unaddressed. Her miserable body burned and ached. The sun poured down its blue-hot rays upon her head. Muffled as she was in the veil, she was like to suffocate for air to breathe, yet she would not expose herself to the gaze of human beings. It was noon when she entered the square of the great gods and passed the door of the temple of Nergal, looking with weary eyes into its vast and cool interior. At some distance within was a group of priests, Sangû, Enû, and Barû, men of importance in their several stations. These the plague-stricken eyes of the woman failed in the dim light to see. But she was startled suddenly by the appearance in the door-way of one of them, who, catching a sight of her, had run quickly forward, and now stood eagerly staring at her form. She did not draw back from the look, and presently the priest spoke:
"Thou that standest shadow-like before me—art thou she whom they called Istar of Babylon?"
"I was Istar of Babylon," came the gentle voice.
"Was! Comest thou from Ninkigal?" The priest started back from her, turning a little pale.