h from the world beyond the Euphrates, the city streets were alive with men, women, and animals. An hour later these were fixed in two long phalanxes, twenty rows deep, on ei

m the second monastery of Zicar? southward across the canal of the Ukhat? to the temple of Istar, where they would enter upon the -Ibur-Sab?, and so pass directly down to the temples where the sacrifice was to be conducted by the high-priests of the temples of Bel, of Marduk, of Nebo, and of Nergal, in the p

hicle led back to a distant point. Men and women on donkeys, however, were permitted to trot on unmolested; for the little, mouse-colored creatures found a passage where their riders would have been wholly at fault. Now and then a drove of goats passed down the sacred way in a cloud of dust, their owner doing a thriving business in the way of selling milk from his animals to the t

ation before it was taken, in its tepid, nauseous state. The morning was well advanced. Children began to cry with fatigue, and men and wom

the rébit was empty of those that had passed the night there. Charmides arose with a very hasty prayer to Apollo, performed some abl

im for a little while. He remained at his vantage-point for some time, regarding with interested eyes all that passed. Finally, however, the sight of a young girl, tall, lithe, straight, with brilliant eyes and dark skin, brought him back with a start to his great object, the quest of Istar. In passing, the girl flashed an impudent little smile at him, and on i

account of any penurious notions, but because, utterly ignorant as he was of Babylonish coinage, he dreaded Babylonish curiosity or the ridicule that might be expressed on presentation of such foreign coins as he had. Therefore he wavered on the outer edge of the crowd, chafing with impatience, extremely uncomfortable, and still afraid to make known his needs. The throng was dense, and the Gr

then sent them drooping, till he could see the pretty, olive lids and the long, black lashes; while at the same time a wave of crimson swept up and over her face. Then Charmides discovered that, after all, he knew something of women. He felt at

andalled feet. Then she watched him open the little money-bag that he had drawn from his bundle. From it he extracted a silver piece, stamped with the parsley sprig of Selinous, and, holding it out to her, he pointed from the c

he coin, she examined it for some seconds. Then, while Charmides looked on uneasily, Baba opened a pouch at her side, extracted therefrom a handful of small, copper disks, and held them out to the Greek, saying somet

of questioning her further. She seemed not disinclined to conversation, and as he glanced at her furtively he found her eyes again

hta

uare of the gods and the temples there in the sacred procession," s

ime. As he strode away he did not know how longingly Baba's eyes followed him; how for a few steps she crept after him, this new god with the hair of gold, and h

ur. With the thought his heart beat furiously, his throat grew dry, and his eyes were dim. His head swam with emotion as he started to edge a way through the mass of people. Not a little to his surprise, he found this easy to do. The people voluntarily gave place to him, staring in wonder at his beauty, his bright hair, and the shining lyre that he carried in his hand. Ignorant as he was of the gigantic system of superstition that formed the foundation of the Chaldai

d breathed. The great multitude hardly caught his attention. He wished himself free to think under the spell of the new world. But now, far up the street, could be seen a whirling cloud of dust, in which low-moving forms were all but hidden. These presently resolved into three droves of animals-goats, bullocks, and sheep for the sacrifice, driven by eunuchs of the temple. The horns of the bullocks were gilded, and the necks of the smaller beasts were twined with wreaths of flowers-just as the hecatombs of Zeus were ornamented at home. Charmides watched the floc

imself was breathless with expectation. The wavering dust-cloud advanced towards the square, and the blare of trumpets grew louder, yet the procession seeme

n which stood one man, a tall, muscular fellow, dark and bearded, with the goat-skin over his left arm, a golden girdle about his waist, and a rosetted tiara on his head-Vul-Raman of the great Bit-Yakin,[5] high-priest of Nebo, and, next to Amraphel of Bel, the most powerful official of the priesthood. Behind him, borne on the shoulders of six En?, or elders, and surrounded by a group of sixteen anointers (Pasis?), and officials of t

e distance, her; and by the heart-throb that followed the thought he knew that he should recognize her presence from afar. As time passed, however, he began to grow fearful lest, after all, she was not; lest Kabir, first, and afterwards Hodo and the rest, had spoken falsely, had deceived him, had brought him to this great, lonely place, out of his world, with no hope of return

at of any other Chaldee. Black hair, cut almost short, clustered about the head. The face was smooth-shaven, after the custom of the royal house; and, though Charmides could not see it from where he stood, the eyes were blue-the deep, purplish blue of a storm-cloud. The man wore the dress of the priesthood, yet it went incongruously with his bearin

t is Belshazzar, the prince

cried the Greek, turnin

the frowning reply made by the hook

is brow touched the ground, Charmides knew that he had not been deceived, that rumor had spoken truth, because more than truth could not here be spoken. Yet when she had passed, the Greek did not know her. He had not seen so much as a line of her figure. She swam in a glory of light that radiated from herself. Her head had been crowned, yet with what he did not know. His hear

ires of Sheol!" And then the former servant of Nebuchadrezzar the Great rose and turned away through the crow

at packed throng would have been useless. This Charmides perceived at once, and presently, as the crowd melted away from where he stood, he turned and began to walk slowly towards the north, along the -Ibur-Sab?. In the street there were not a few people who, l

le Babylon was the shrine of such a being, in Babylon he must worship. Sicily, his friends, his mother, were now become things of another life-things fair and dea

l brick, low-roofed, and surrounded by walls in which the great wrought bronze gates were shut. Through their bars he caught glimpses of fair gardens filled with flowers of brilliant hues and shaded by flowering bushes and tall date-palms. But in these places there was no sign of life; nor was any living creature to be seen on the flat roofs that served, in Babylon, the purpose of summer living-rooms. On the right

old man held between his knees a basket of small, clay bricks, inscribed with Accadian prayers. Close to him was a scribe of a semi-religious order, ready provided with cuneiform iron and a supply of kneaded clay. A little beyond, a street water-carrier had stopped to rest, with his heavy pigskin beside him. Nearest of

ere-fixed on him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Thereupon courage born of hunger came upon the rhapsode with a mighty rush. He rose and went over to the side of the flower-girl, and, taking from his bag the coppers given him by Baba, he proffered them all to the flower-seller. Smiling till she showed a very pretty set of small, white teeth, she picked up all her remaining bouquets and held them up to him in bot

s quite welcome to what was left of it. Hereupon the rhapsode spread out all his se, nine of them, in a neat row, and suggested that she take as many as the bread and fruit were worth. The maiden hesitated over this part of the affair, but, as Charmides was quit

so very careful that, in the interest of it, the awe and fiery enthusiasm excited in him by the sight of Istar was gradually dispelled. Thus he came

olorless, old, and much patched. Her pretty feet were bare, and her only head-covering the long, silken hair that was plaited and coiled round and round her shapely head. But it had been a pity to hide those glossy locks under the rarest of

ller. This he proffered first to the girl, who refused it with exceeding grace, and a very definite hope in her eyes that the sunny Greek woul

st

quick reply, as Ram?a pointe

This is the temple of Istar? The goddess wil

smiled

ed, stared out upon the sunny square and down the far stretch of the -Ibur-Sab?, from which far-distant sounds of music came faintly to his ears. Gradually he fell into a noonday reverie, from which he was roused by Ram?a, who, hoping perhaps to attract his attention, had lifted his lyre and was running her hand over its strings. Charmides looked up at

, high-crowned nobleman, tossed him a piece of money at the conclusion of the poem. Charmides took it up with a momentary impulse to throw it back at the man. Prudence, however, came to his aid, and, after a moment of inwar

far down the -Ibur-Sab? had by now resolved themselves into a two-hors

ed him closely, she might even see him. And if her eyes should fall upon him-had she eyes? Had she features and organs? Was she, in fact, anything but a mystic vision that people saw

of people that had assembled to watch Istar's arrival, bent the knee. Charmides alone remained upright-why, he could not have told. Certainly it was not from lack of reverence. His eyes were fixed upon the form of Istar, while with all the strength of his mind he strove to pierce the veil of impenetrable, dazzling light that hung a

had descended, Charmides did not know. He seemed to h

platform steps. Charmides could see that her feet moved, yet they barely touched the bricks. He did not know, however, that a ye

rned her head. Belshazzar, on the other side, halted in astonishment. Charmides' heart stopped. He found himself looking into a pair of great, unfathomable eyes that gazed into his

coming when Allaraine banished thy desert fever, in order

st

long, and has taken pa

of my goddess. Long ago, throu

s Allaraine to me. Charmides, you have no home in Babylon. Wil

ttle towards the young girl, who stood, pale an

ing-time this stranger home to the house of your mother, Beltani, and keep him there as

able of speech; but the flush of crimson that had overspread her face told Istar that

follow you after her. And again you shall come to me in my temple and play to me the music of your lyre. You have heard the chords of Allaraine of the skies. They shall co

ing like a silver cloud across the great platform towards the open portals of the temple. Thereupon the Greek turned his face to Ram?a, and, as he cl