"Come forth, O Nagaya, Friend of the gods and the people, and comfort us with the Divine Silence of thy Wisdom supernal!"
While she pronounced these words, the golden grating ascended gradually inch by inch, with the steady clank as of the upward winding of a chain,—and when she ceased, there came a mysterious, rustling, slippery sound, suggestive of some creeping thing forcing its way through wet and tangled grass, or over dead leaves, . . one instant more, and a huge Serpent—a species of python some ten feet in length—glided through the round aperture made by the lifted bars, and writhed itself slowly along the marble pavement straight to where Lysia stood.
Once it stopped, curving back its glistening body in a strange loop as though in readiness to spring—but it soon resumed its course, and arrived at the High Priestess's feet. There, its whole frame trembled and glowed with extraordinary radiance, . . the prevailing color of its skin was creamy white, marked with countless rings and scaly bright spots of silver, purple, and a peculiar livid blue,—and all these tints came into brilliant prominence, as it crouched before Lysia and twisted its sinuous neck to and fro with an evidently fawning and supplicatory gesture; while she, keeping her sombre dark eyes fixed full upon it, moved not an inch from her position, but, majestically serene, continued to hold the tall staff of ebony straight and erect as a growing palm.
The cithern-playing had now the soothing softness of a mother's lullaby to a tired child, and as the liquid notes quavered delicately on the otherwise deep stillness, the formidable reptile began to coil itself ascendingly round and round the ebony rod, . . higher and higher,—one glistening ring after another,—higher still, till its eyes were on a level with the "Eye of Raphon" that flamed on Lysia's breast, . . there it paused in apparent reflectiveness, and seemed to listen to the slumberous strains that floated toward it in wind-like breaths of sound, . . then, starting afresh on its upward way, it carefully, and with almost human tenderness, avoided touching Lysia's hand, which now rested on the staff between two thick twists of its body, . . and finally it reached the top, where fully raising its crested head, it displayed the prismatic tints of its soft, restless, wavy throat, which was adorned furthermore by a flexible circlet of magnificent diamonds.
Nothing more striking or more singular could Theos imagine than the scene now before him, . . the beautiful woman, still as sculptured marble, and the palpitating Snake coiled on that mast-like rod and uplifted above her,—while round the twain knelt the Priests, their faces covered in their robes, and from all parts of the Temple the loud shout arose:
"ALL HAIL, NAGAYA!"
"Praise, Honor, and Glory be unto thee forever and ever!"
Then it was that the proud King flung himself to earth and kissed the dust in abject submission,—then Sah-luma, carelessly complaisant, bent the knee and smiled to himself mockingly as he performed the act of veneration, … then the enormous multitude with clasped hands and beseeching looks fell down and worshipped the glittering beast of the field, whose shining, emerald-like, curiously sad eyes roved hither and thither with a darting yet melancholy eagerness over all the people who called it Lord!
To Theos's imagination it looked a creature more sorrowful than fierce,—a poor charmed brute, that while netted in the drowsy woofs of its mistress Lysia's magnetic spell, seemed as though it dimly wondered why it should thus be raised aloft for the adoration of infatuated humankind. Its brilliant crest quivered and emitted little arrowy scintillations of lustre—the "god" was ill at ease in the midst of all his splendor, and two or three times bent back his gleaming neck as though desirous of descending to the level ground.
But when these hints of rebellion declared themselves in the tremors running through the scaly twists of his body, Lysia looked up, and at once, compelled as it were by involuntary attraction, "Nagaya the Divine" looked down. The strange, subtle, mesmeric, sleepy eyes of the woman met the glittering green, mournful eyes of the snake,—and thus the two beautiful creatures regarded each other steadfastly and with an apparent vague sympathy, till the "deity," evidently overcome by a stronger will than his own, and resigning himself to the inevitable, twisted his radiant head back again to the top of the ebony staff, and again surveyed the kneeling crowds of worshippers.
Presently his glistening jaws opened,—his tongue darted forth vibratingly,—and he gave vent to a low hissing sound, erecting and depressing his crest with extraordinary rapidity, so that it flashed like an aigrette of rare gems. Then, with slow and solemn step, the Priest Zel advanced to the front of the Shrine, and spreading out his hands in the manner of one pronouncing a benediction, said loudly and with emphasis: