Father Nemausus.”
As they chanted, and a cloud of incense mounted around her, Perpetua looked down into the water. It was green as glacier ice, and so full of bubbles in places as to be there semi-opaque. The depth seemed infinite. No bottom was visible. No fish darted through it. An immense volume boiled up unceasingly from unknown, unfathomed depths. The wavelets lapped the marble breasting as though licking it with greed expecting their victim.
The water, after brimming the basin, flowed away over a sluice under a bridge as a considerable stream. [pg 21]Then it lost its sanctity and was employed for profane uses.
Perpetua heard the song of the ministers of the god, but gave no heed to it, for her lips moved in prayer, and her soul was already unfurling its pure wings to soar into that Presence before which, as she surely expected, she was about to appear.
When the chorus had reached the line:
“May thy selection be the best and fittest,
Father Nemausus!”
then she was thrust by three priestesses from the balustrade and precipitated into the basin. She uttered no cry, but from all present a gasp of breath was audible.
For a moment she disappeared in the vitreous waters, and her white garland alone remained floating on the surface.
Then her dress glimmered, next her arm, as the surging spring threw her up.