I thought, therefore, that some statement might now be made to the effect that by means of this ceremony my status among the Kosekin would be changed, and that both I and Almah, being no longer lovers, would be no longer fit for the sacrifice.

To my intense disappointment, however, nothing whatever was said that had the remotest reference to this.
On the following jom I determined to ask the Chief Pauper himself directly; and accordingly, after a brief preamble, I put the question point-blank: "Will our ceremony of separation make any difference as to our sacrifice ?" "What ?" he asked, with a puzzled expression.
I repeated the question.
"I don't understand," said he, still looking puzzled.
Upon this I once more repeated it.
"How can that be ?" said he at length; "how can the ceremony of separation have any effect upon your sacrifice?
The ceremony of separation stands by itself as the sign and symbol of an additional blessing.

This new happiness of separation is a great favor, and will make you the object of new envy and admiration; for few have been so fortunate as you in all the history of the Kosekin.

But you are the favorite of the Kosekin now, and there is nothing that they will not do for you." "But we were separate before," said I, indignantly.
"That is true," said he, "in point of fact; but this ceremony makes your separation a legal thing, and gives it the solemn sanction of law and of religion.

Among the Kosekin one cannot be considered as a separate man until the ceremony of separation has been publicly performed." "I understood," said I, "that we were chosen to suffer the sacrifice together because we were lovers, and now since you do not any longer regard us as lovers, why do you sacrifice us ?" At this question the Chief Pauper looked at me with one of those hungry glances of his, which showed how he thirsted for my blood, and he smiled the smile of an evil fiend.
"Why do we sacrifice you, Atam-or ?" he replied.