worshipper. The priestess withdrew and, wrapped in the dark, hooded
robe that signified the stained flesh about to be cast away, which hid
all of him so that his face could not be seen, came that tall neophyte
led by two priests who held his right hand and his left. I noted those
hands because they were so white against the blackness of the robe,
and even by the moonlight saw that they were beautiful, long and thin
and shapely, though the palm of one, the right, was somewhat broadened
as though by long handling of the tools of war.The priests led him to the entrance of the shrine and in hushed
whispers bade him kneel upon a footstool and make his sacrifice and
confession to the goddess as he had been taught to do. Then they
departed leaving us alone.There followed silence which at length I broke, whispering,"Who is this that comes to visit the Mother in her earthly shrine and
what is his prayer to the Queen of Heaven and Earth?"Though I spoke so gently and so low, perhaps because of their very
sweetness, my words seemed to frighten him, or perhaps he believed
that he stood in the very presence of the goddess; at least he
answered in a voice that trembled,"O holy Queen adored, in the world I was named Kallikrates the comely. But the priests, O Queen, have given me a new name, and it is, _Lover-of-Isis_."

"And what have you to say to Isis, O Lover-of-Isis?"

"O Queen eternal, I have to tell my sins and ask her pardon for them, I who have passed the Trials and am accepted by her servants. If it is granted, then to her I must make the oath, binding myself eternally to love and serve her, her and no other in heaven or on earth."

"Set out those sins, O Lover-of-Isis, that my Majesty may judge of them, whether they can be forgiven or are beyond forgiveness," I answered in the words of the appointed ritual. 

Then he began and told a tale that made me redden behind my veil, for all of it had to do with women, and never before had I learned what wantons those Greeks could be. Also he told of men whom he had slain in war, one of them in the battle against my tribe, in which strangely enough, it seemed he had fought as a lad, for this man was a great warrior. Of these killings, however, I took no account, because they had been of those who were the enemies of himself or of his cause.

In stern silence I listened, noting that save for these matters of light love and fightings, the man seemed innocent enough, for in his story there was naught of baseness or of betrayal. Moreover, it seemed that he was one in whom the spirit had 

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