Who hath made and created the years and the ages;
Praise Him who rides on death,
In whose hand are all power and honor and glory;
Who made the day of life,
That should rise up and lighten the shadow of death."
With a crash the great bronze doors gave way, and fell clanging in. In an instant the temple was filled with a swarm of hideous men. Their swords gleamed aloft as they passed forward, and their yells rent the roof. They had hoped for treasure—they saw but a handful of white-robed, unarmed men. Their rage knew no bounds, and their screams rose more piercing than ever, as they surrounded the doomed band, and dyed their blades in the blood that flowed red over the white vestures.
The priests struggled like brave men, but the foe were a hundred to one. A sharp blade fell swiftly and the brave little slave fell shrieking to the floor.
Nehushta's eyes met the high priest's triumphant gaze and her hands clasped his wildly.
"Oh, Zoroaster, my beloved, my beloved! Say not any more that I am unfaithful, for I have been faithful even unto death, and I shall be with you beyond the stars for ever!"
"Beyond the stars and for ever!" he cried; "in the light of the glory of God most high!"