and pressed
to his lips the hem of her raiment. And the queen felt him weeping with
rapture, shame, and desire. Lowering her hand upon his curly, tousled
head, the queen uttered:

"Tell me, Eliab, all that thou knowest of the king and this girl of the
vineyard."

"How thou dost love him, O queen!" said Eliab with a bitter moan.

"Speak!..." commanded Astis.

"What can I tell thee, queen? My heart is rent by jealousy."

"Speak!"

"Never yet has the king loved any as he loveth her. He doth not part
from her for an instant. His eyes shine with happiness. He lavishes
favours and gifts all about him. He, the Abimelech[5] and sage,--he,
like a slave, lieth at her feet and, like a dog, taketh not his eyes
off her."

"Speak!"

"O, how thou dost torture me, queen! And she ... she is all love, all
tenderness and caresses! She is meek and abashed, she sees and knows
naught save her love. She arouses wrath, envy, or jealousy in none...."

"Speak!" furiously moaned out the queen, and, clutching with her pliant
fingers the black curls of Eliab, she pressed his head against her body,
scratching his face with the silver embroidery of her diaphanous chiton.

* * * * *

And in the meanwhile, at the altar, around the image of the goddess
covered with its black pall, the priests and priestesses were careering
in a holy frenzy, with shouts resembling barking, to the clashing of
tympani and the jarring strum of sistrums.

Certain ones among them were flaying themselves with many-tailed
whiplashes of rhinoceros hide; others were inflicting long, slashing
wounds upon their own breasts and shoulders with short knives; others
still were tearing their mouths with their fingers, tearing at their
ears, and excoriating their faces with their nails. In the midst of this
mad round-dance, at the very feet of the goddess, with inconceivable
rapidity the anchorite from the mountains of Lebanon was whirling on one
spot, in snowy-white, waving raiment. The head priest alone remained
motionless. In his hand he was holding the sacred sacrificial knife of
AEthiopian obsidian, ready to pass it over at the ultimate, frightful
moment.

"The Phallus! The Phallus! The Phallus!" the maddened priests were
crying in an ecstasy. "Where is thy Phallus, O radiant god? Come,
fecundate the goddess! Her bosom languishes with desire! Her womb is
like a desert in the sultry months of summer!"

And now a fearful, insane, pierc