The statue was only that of an affrighted child in its mother's
arms; its interpretation made clear even to the dullest by the simple
symbolism of some genius--Humanity saved by the Divine.
While we gazed at its enchanting beauty, the priests and priestesses,
filing away to right and left, arranged themselves alternately, first a
man and then a woman, within the ring of the columns of fire that burned
around the loop-shaped shrine. So great was its circumference that the
whole hundred of them must stand wide apart one from another, and, to
our sight, resembled little lonely children clad in gleaming garments,
while their chant of worship reached us only like echoes thrown from
a far precipice. In short, the effect of this holy shrine and its
occupants was superb yet overwhelming, at least I know that it filled me
with a feeling akin to fear.
Oros waited till the last priest had reached his appointed place. Then
he turned and said, in his gentle, reverent tones--"Draw nigh, now, O
Wanderers well-beloved, and give greeting to the Mother," and he pointed
towards the statue.
"Where is she?" asked Leo, in a whisper, for here we scarcely dared to
speak aloud. "I see no one."
"The Hesea dwells yonder," he answered, and, taking each of us by the
hand, he led us forward across the great emptiness of the apse to the
altar at its head.
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