It was a device of the gods--a sort of madness with which they were afflicted.

But soon their murmurs turned again into lamentation when they saw what was to come.

Men were running backwards and forwards, piling up dried wood and branches against the idol-house, a single spark and the thing was done.

A tongue of flame leaped up, a thick column of smoke stole straight up in the breathless air.

Amazed, the people stood and saw the home of dreadful mystery, whence came the sentence of life and death, the voice of the King-maker, the omens of war and fortune, enveloped in flames, already a ruined and shapeless mass.