Cabot was instantly sorry that he had spoken so; and humbly apologized. But the priest would have none of it.
“Under the circumstances,” he said, “your suspicions were entirely justified.”
Just then a blue ape entered the room with a message. The priest read the note, and then informed Cabot that he was to be granted an audience forthwith by the holy father.
Cabot was washed, shaved and dressed in a clean, Cupian toga, and then led, with steps feeble from his long illness, through many corridors to a door on which his conductor knocked several times. The knock was repeated from within, and the door swung slowly open, admitting them to a gorgeous vaulted hall, paved with precious stones, flanked with gold-chased pillars, and lighted on three sides by electric lamps in the shape of equilateral triangles. The hangings were magnificent tapestries in cloth of gold, platinum, copper and other metals, depicting early traditional scenes in the history of the planet.
About fifty priests, dressed like Cabot’s conductor, were seated along the walls, some on special raised thrones; and in the center of the opposite side, on a raised platform, sat the leader of the faith, Owva, the holy father, who was the only cowled figure in the room. Owva’s face was the most serene and to-be-trusted that Myles Cabot had ever seen on any human being. One look at that face, and all Myles’s troubles passed away.
The holy father inspired him, as a mother inspires a child, to absolute trust and confidence in the future.
But Cabot’s perverse Americanism led him to stand erect with arms folded, as his conductor made humble obeisance and motioned to him to do likewise. Myles Cabot was the Regent of Cupia; why should he do homage to the church? Then he remembered that his claim to the regency lay buried in the courtyard of Luno Castle. And then he felt thoroughly ashamed of his grossness, for the holy father descended from the throne and bowed low to him, saying:
“Welcome to Kar, Myles Cabot, defender of the faith.”
Ever these priests were teaching Cabot manners. He now bowed low in turn himself, and stammered out some kind of an apology.