'I heard the old man speak in prophecy, saying the time was not far away when the beautiful city beneath them should crumble to decay, the temples perish, and the altars be broken and buried deep in the earth, until men should seek for the glories and religion of Ephesus, but should search in vain—that the faith of the goddess should be but a broken note in the great hymn which the ages sing. More he said, but all of the same import.'
'What kind of man was this prophet?'
'He was mean in appearance, possessing an intellect like the mind of a god. His eyes were piercing, and his spirit consumed his flesh; his body was but a disguise. Surely within that frail and plainly-built structure there resided a soul which has circled around the central throne of the King of the universe. He is a messenger from Him, whoever He may be.'
'Endora—Myrtile may I call thee?—go! Be careful of the message to Chios. My life—everything depends on its safe delivery. Place it carefully, and speed away. The message demands action this day.'
Endora crept up the avenue of myrtles to the door of Chios, and timidly knocked at it.
'I have a message for thee.'
'From whom didst thou receive it?'
'From the High Priestess, Saronia.'