"Thou art over-flippant of speech, Sah-luma!" he observed austerely. "Take heed thou be not snared into misfortune by the glibness of thy tongue! Thou dost speak of the chaste Lysia with unseemly lightness.—learn to be reverent, and so shalt thou be wiser!"
Sah-luma laughed and settled himself more easily on his couch, turning in such a manner as to look the stately Zel full in the face. They exchanged one glance, expressive as it seemed of some mutual secret understanding,—for the Priest coughed as though he were embarrassed, and stroked his beard deliberately with one hand in an endeavor to hide the strange smile that, despite his efforts to conceal it, visibly lightened his cold eyes to a sudden tigerish brilliancy.
"The mission with which I am charged," he resumed presently,—"is to thee, Chief Laureate of the realm, and runs as followeth: Whereas thou hast of late avoided many days of public service in the Temple, so that those among the people who admire thee follow thine ill example, and absent themselves also with equal readiness,—the Priestess Undefiled, the noble Lysia, doth to-night command thy presence as a duty not to be foregone. Therefore come thou and take thy part in the Great Sacrifice, for these late tumults and disaster in the city, notably the perplexing downfall of the Obelisk, have caused all hearts to fail and sink for very fear. The river darkens in its crimson hue each hour by passing hour,—strange noises have been heard athwart the sky and in the deeper underground, . . and all these drear unwonted things are so many cogent reasons why we should in solemn unison implore the favor of Nagaya and the gods whereby further catastrophes may be perchance averted. Moreover for motives of most urgent state-policy it is advisable that all who hold place, dignity, and renown within the city should this night be seen as fervent supplicants before the Sacred Shrine,—so may much threatening rebellion be appeased, and order be restored out of impending confusion. Such is the message I am bidden to convey to thee,—furthermore I am required to bear back again to the High Priestess thy faithful promise that her orders shall be surely and entirely obeyed. Thou art not wont".. and a pale sneer flitted over his features.. "to set her mandate at defiance."
Sah-luma bit his lips angrily, and folded his arms above his head with a lazy yet impatient movement.
"Assuredly I shall be present at the Service," he said curtly.. "There needed no such weighty summoning! 'Twas my intention to join the ranks of worshippers to-night, though for myself I have no faith in worship, . . the gods I ween are deaf, and care not a jot whether we mortals weep or sing. Nevertheless I shall look on with fitting gravity, and deport myself with due decorum throughout the ceremonious Ritual, though verily I tell thee, reverend Zel, 'tis tedious and monotonous at best, . . and concerning the poor maiden-sacrifice, it is a shuddering horror we could well dispense with."
"I think not so,".. replied the Priest calmly. "Thou, who art well instructed in the capricious humors of men, must surely know how dearly the majority of them love the shedding of blood,—'tis a clamorous brute-instinct in them which must be satisfied. Better therefore that we, the anointed Priests, should slay one willing victim for the purposes of religion, than that they, the ignorant mob, should kill a thousand to gratify their lust of murder. An unresentful, all-loving Deity would be impossible of comprehension to a mutually hating and malignant race of beings,—all creeds must be accommodated to the dispositions of the million."
"Pardon me…" suddenly interrupted Theos, "I am a stranger, and in a great measure ignorant of this city's customs, . . but I confess I am amazed to hear a Priest uphold so specious an argument! What! … must divine Religion be dragged down from its pure throne to pander to the selfish passions of the multitude? … because men are vile, must a vile god be invented to suit their savage caprices? … because men are so cruel, must the unseen Creator of things be delineated as even more barbarous than they, in order to give them some pietistical excuse for wickedness?—I ask these questions not out of wanton curiosity, but for the sake of instruction!"
The haughty Zel turned upon him in severe astonishment.
"Sir," he said—"Stranger undoubtedly thou art,—and so bold a manner of speech most truly savors of the utterly uneducated western barbarian! All wise and prudent governments have learned that a god fit for the adoration of men must be depicted as much like men as possible,—any absolutely superhuman attributes are unnecessary to the character of a useful deity, inasmuch as no man ever will, or ever can, understand the worth of superhuman qualities. Humanity is only capable of worshipping Self—thus, it is necessary, that when people are persuaded to pay honor to an elected Divinity, they should be well and comfortably assured in their own minds that they are but offering homage to an Image of Self placed before them in a deified or heroic form. This satisfies the natural idolatrous cravings of Egotism, and this is all that priests or teachers desire. Now in the worship of Nagaya, we have the natures of Man and Woman conjoined, . . the Snake is the emblem of male wisdom united with female subtilty—and the two essences, mingled in one, make as near an approach to what we may imagine the positive Divine capacity as can be devised on earth by earthly intelligences. If, on the other hand, such an absurd doctrine as that formulated in the fanatic madman Khosrul's 'Prophecy' could be imagined as actually admitted, and proclaimed to the nations, it would have very few followers, and the sincerity of those few might well be open to doubt. For the Deity it speaks of is supposed to be an immortal God disguised as Man,—a God who voluntarily rejects and sets aside His own glory to serve and save His perishable creatures,—thus the root of that religion would consist in Self-abnegation, and Self-abnegation is, as experience proves, utterly impossible to the human being."
"Why is it impossible?" asked Theos with a quiver of passionate earnestness in his voice,—"Are there none in all the world who would sacrifice their own interests to further another's welfare and happiness?"