“Isaiah the son of Shadrach, and lifting Ruth the Jewess from the carriage! Why this tumult? Some fearful deed!”
The minister had recovered and stood at the pontiff’s side. He was again self-possessed. “Let me know with what the Lord God has visited me,” was all he said, and waited silently, as a breathless young priest rushed up to his superior, never so much as salaaming.
“Master! a frightful outrage. The royal eunuchs have pursued these fugitives past the boundary stones to our very gates. They attempted violence, and now clamour without, demanding their prey!”
Imbi turned very deliberately, took his white peaked tiara from the divan, and set it on his head.
“Gross sacrilege, indeed, Merdovah; impossible that his Majesty should authorize such violence!”
More priests and students were howling in the yard below: “Away with the eunuchs! To the canal with them! Avenge the insult!”
“Master,” remonstrated the messenger, “except you quiet the temple folk, expect a riot. They are maddened and furious.”
Imbi leaped upon the divan beside the balcony. “Below there, silence! What is this tumult?” The voice of the superior produced instant stillness.
“You there, Hasba, speak for all. Why is this carriage here, and these eunuchs?”
The priest addressed, a gaunt, athletic man, stepped forth from the crowd of fellows clustered around the gate.