Bastin is a priest." "Lords of ourselves! Why, for ought I know, at this very moment Oro watches us in his thought and laughs.

Only in death, Humphrey, shall we pass beyond his reach and become lords of ourselves." "It is monstrous!" I cried.

"There is the boat, let us fly away." "What boat can bear us out of stretch of the arm of the old god of my people, Fate, whereof Oro is the high priest?
Nay, here we must wait our doom." "Doom," I said--"doom?
What then is about to happen ?" "A terrible thing, as I think, Humphrey.

Or, rather, it will not happen." "Why not, if it must ?" "Beloved," she whispered, "Bastin has expounded to me a new faith whereof the master-word is Sacrifice.

The terrible thing will not happen because of sacrifice! Ask me no more." She mused a while, seated there in the moonlight upon the ancient altar of sacrifice, the veil she wore falling about her face and making her mysterious.