'Probably.'
'Thou wilt send by the hand of Endora?'
'Good-bye, Chios—good-bye! Take this flower of myrtle from me.'
She plucked it from her bosom, kissed its fragrant petals, and gave it to him.
CHAPTER XLI
DAYBREAK
The meeting with Chios and the Christian in the cave of the Ephesian sorceress had worked on the mind of the priestess. She was agitated like a ship cast in the way where two seas meet. Two great tides were bearing on her, which should carry her on its bosom. On the one hand, she had the traditions of the goddess, like a mighty river coursing down the ages, backed by a power which could command the living and the dead; on the other, she had presented to her a God of love, and the teachings which brought her dead mother to the Christ of God, permeated the soul of her lover, and gave peace to Endora, the accursed of Hecate.
Before her rose the great Temple, glistening white in the sunlight, rearing its majestic pillars skywards, throwing shadows to the west. She saw the train of priests move up the marble stairway and disappear within, and heard the hymn of morning rise on the trembling air.
In striking contrast before her stretched out a vision of the hated sect, the followers of the despised Nazarene, the little band of outcasts, who for fear of the people worshipped their God in the silent watches of the night, when the city was asleep—worshipped Him without gorgeous ritual or templed home, and standing ready, well knowing that as each day dawned the setting sun might cast its rays upon their lifeless bodies lying uncared for in the Ephesian arena.
All this floated before her, drifting by, dark and ominously, like the shadow of a great cloud on the face of the waters.