eliness of her face was drawn and
haggard. It was the first great reverse, this, she had met with in
all her life, and the shock of it, and the vision of what might follow
after, dazed her. Alas, if she could only have guessed at a tenth of the
terrors which the future had in its womb, Atlantis might have been saved
even then.

6. THE BITERS OF THE CITY WALLS

Here then was the manner of my reception back in the capital of
Atlantis, and some first glimpse at her new policies. I freely confess
to my own inaction and limpness; but it was all deliberate. The old ties
of duty seemed lost, or at least merged in one another. Beforetime, to
serve the king was to serve the Clan of the Priests, from which he had
been chosen, and whose head he constituted. But Phorenice was self-made,
and appeared to be a rule unto herself; if Zaemon was to be trusted,
he was the mouthpiece of the Priests, and their Clan had set her at
defiance; and how was a mere honest man to choose on the instant between
the two?

But cold argument told me that governments were set up for the good
of the country at large, and I said to myself that there would be my
choice. I must find out which rule promised best of Atlantis, and do my
poor best to prop it into full power. And here at once there opened up
another path in the maze: I had heard some considerable talk of rebels;
of another faction of Atlanteans who, whatever their faults might be,
were at any rate strong enough to beleaguer the capital; and before
coming to any final decision, it would be as well to take their claims
in balance with the rest. So on the night of that very same day on which
I had just re-planted my foot on the old country's shores, I set out to
glean for myself tidings on the matter.

No one inside the royal pyramid gainsaid me. The banquet had ended
abruptly with the terrible scene that I have set down above on these
tablets, for with Tarca writhing on the floor, and thrusting out the
gruesome scars of his leprosy, even the most gluttonous had little
enough appetite for further gorging. Phorenice glowered on the feasters
for a while longer in silent fury, but saying no further word; and then
her eyes turned on me, though softened somewhat.

"You may be an honest man, Deucalion," she said, at length, "but you are
a monstrous cold one. I wonder when you will thaw?" And here she smiled.
"I think it will be soon. But for now I bid you farewell. In the morning
we will tak