In an instant I was beside her. With passionate ardor I pressed her hand to my lips. Her face flushed delicately, pallor, dejection had vanished; her eyes gleamed and burned, she was the personification of joy.
"In a few days we will be in Centur—think what that means to me, Virgillius," she murmured.
"You are positive then?"
"As though I were already there," she replied. "He waits me. Centur ends all disappointments. I will talk with you later, this is a day of worship. I am the Priestess of the Sun."
Rising to her full height majestically she walked down the deck with upstretched arms waving toward the Sun. High, clear, rang out her clarion voice in the call to worship, and people flocked from all parts of the ship, circled around her, and kneeled.
With swaying form she chanted in low, weird tones. The glorious eyes did not blink before the dazzling rays that enveloped her. She twisted, undulated, as though to have the streaming fiery light bathe every portion of her body; then suddenly, as in ecstasy, out came the cry of devotion, high, clear, sweet. At that moment the Sun's rays slanted, and in the golden shadow the glorious Priestess stood silent, rapt; then her arms fell to her sides and devotions ended.
All rose and went about their various duties. Alpha turned to me with a smile as placid as a child's.
"Always the Priestess of the Sun," she mur-