You, priest," and he pointed to the Shadid, "I read your heart; you design to murder this apostate whom you greet as your successor that you may usurp his place.

I show you yours: it lies in the bellies of the jackals of the desert.
"For you priests and priestesses of El and Baaltis, think of my words, and raise the loud song of triumph to your gods when you yourselves are their offering, and the red flame of the fire burns you up, all of you save your sins, which are immortal.

O citizens of an accursed city, look on the hill-top yonder and tell me, what do you see in the light of the dying day?
A sheen of spears, is it not?
They draw near to your hearts, you whose day is done indeed, citizens of an accursed city whereof the very name shall be forgotten, and the naked towers shall become but a source of wonder to men unborn.
"And now, O priest, having said my say, as you bid me, I make my offering upon your altar." Then, while all stood fearful and amazed, Issachar the Levite sprang forward, and seizing the ancient image of Baaltis, he spat upon it and dashed the priceless consecrated thing down upon the altar, where it broke into fragments, and was burned with the fire.
"My offering is made," he said; "may He whom I serve accept it.

Now after the offering comes the sacrifice; son Aziel, fare you well." ***** For a few moments a silence of horror and dismay fell upon the assembly as they gazed at the shattered and burning fragments of their holy image.

Then moved by a common impulse, with curses and yells of fury, the priests and priestesses sprang from their seats and hurled themselves upon Issachar, who stood awaiting them with folded arms.