3. III.
“Ipsistos!” said the sacred messenger of the
temple, touching the melancholy youth with the
spiral rod of his office, — “thou art called.”
“Whither?” demanded the youth.
“To the temple!” was the answer of authority.
“I obey! — I follow thee!” said the youth, with
fear and trembling.
“It is well. Bermahdi awaits thee.”
And Ipsistos prepared to follow as he was commanded,
and his heart was full of fears; for had he
not heard from Bermahdi that the goddess was a
jealous goddess — quick to see the falling off of
the worshipper at her altars, and terrible in her
punishments for every departure from the law as
it is written.
“Fare thee well, my father,” cried the youth,
— “I am commanded to leave thee for a while.”
“Who commands thee, my son?” said the venerable
man.
“Bermahdi.”
“Ha! — Thou hast sinned, my son. Thou
hast sinned against the goddess.”
“I fear me.”
And the old man trembled, and fell upon his
face, as the favorite of his eyes departed.
