She seemed a Queen of Death receiving homage from the dead. More, she was receiving homage from dead or living—I know not which—for, as I thought it, a shadowy Shape arose before the throne and bent the knee to her, then another, and another, and another.
As each vague Being appeared and bowed its starry head she raised her sceptre in answering salutation. We could hear the distant tinkle of the sistrum bells, the only sound in all that place, yes, and see her lips move, though no whisper reached us from them. Surely spirits were worshipping her!
We gripped each other. We shrank back and found the door. It gave to our push. Now we were in the passages again, and now we had reached our room.
At its entrance Oros was standing as we had left him. He greeted us with his fixed smile, taking no note of the terror written on our faces. We passed him, and entering the room stared at each other.
What is she?
gasped Leo. An angel?
Yes,
I answered, something of that sort.
But to myself I thought that there are doubtless many kinds of angels.
And what were those—those shadows—doing?
he asked again.
Welcoming her after her transformation, I suppose. But perhaps they were not shadows—only priests disguised and conducting some secret ceremonial!
Leo shrugged his shoulders but made no other answer.
At length the door opened, and Oros, entering, said that the Hesea commanded our presence in her chamber.
So, still oppressed with fear and wonder—for what we had seen was perhaps more dreadful than anything that had gone before—we went, to find Ayesha seated and looking somewhat weary, but otherwise unchanged. With her was the priestess Papave, who had just unrobed her of the royal mantle which she wore in the Sanctuary.
