"Murderess!"
With the last word two or three more stones came towards her, one of them striking her upon the knee, another passing just over her head.
Istar drew a long sigh, and for an instant she closed her world-weary eyes. Thereafter, with a slighter movement than she had used before Cyrus, she caused the veil to fall from her form, and stood exposed in all her pitiable plight before the pitiless mob that had gathered against her.
Instantly there came a chorus of wonderment and of repulsion, with which a weak note of compassion was mingled. Charmides, who now saw her face for the first time since the morning after the massacre, started with horror.
"Behold, the mark of the plague is upon me. How then do ye call me servant of Namtar?" she said.
"Sorceress! Beneath the veil thou hast transformed thyself! Take thy true form!" cried Amraphel from the throng.
At this accusation a howl of anger suddenly rolled over the childish multitude. At last, almost by accident, they had been successfully roused to fury against the helpless creature before them.
"Thy true shape, witch!"
"Thy true shape!"
"Fly, if thou canst, from our wrath!"