During all this time the high-priest, who took no active part in the rite himself, being busied with his duties as host, was nevertheless engaged upon a private furtherance of the affair, quite obliviously, he told me afterward. It consisted in breathing modulately in and out of his pursed-up lips. This action is a great purifier; as we shall see later. It is only to the godless that it suggests an inexpert whistler vainly attempting a favorite tune.
A pause in the rite now informed everybody that the god had come, and everybody watched intently for what was to follow; with mixed emotion, I fancy, for the entertainment partook of the characters of a mass, a martyrdom, and a melodrama all in one.
The original old gentleman once more led off. Taking post at the bed's northern end, he piously clapped his hands, muttered a few consecrated words, and then salting his soles by a rub on the mat, stepped boldly on to the burning bed and strode with dignified unconcern the whole length of it. He did this without the least symptom of discomfort or even of notice of his own act.
