THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, JANUARY 21, 1917
TIER
BE OF THE RED VIRGIN
In Two Installments Part II.
B SHRANK back
against the damp
wall and watched"
them. At the head
of the throne: was
borne a palanquin
of red wood. Eight
tan men, dad only
In white loin cloths.
bore it upon their muscular shoulders.
Between the scarlet curtains we caught
a glimpse of an old white bearded man,
with thin, transparent features, bright
.with the light of the torches. Behind,
appareled In long white robes, marched
scores of other men, some old, some
young, but all witk long, flowing hair
'and beards. And behind them, borne
upon a second red palanquin, rode a
sheeted figure. It was swathed to the
eyes in a pure white robe.
It was borne by eight girls in white
tunics, edged with scarlet. Upon their
breasts and arms and foreheads glittered
ropes of Jewels that threw back the light
of the torches in a million scintillant
sparks. I surmised that the fierce vis
aged, ascetic old man was the Whisper
ing Prophet, and that the white robed
figure In the second palanquin was the
Red Virgin. Behind them came the
women and girls and children.
As they came upon the last spiral all
chanting ceased. They were approaching
the Temple of Silence. No sound was
audible save the measured tread of hun
dreds of sandaled feet. The torches of
cedar and sandalwood faggots sputtered,
scattering showers of dying sparks. And
By Arthur James Hayes
then with slow tread and stately silence
the strange procession passed us and as
cended to the front of the Temple of Si
lence. The red palanquias were borne
within and the worshipers arrayed them
selves to a great expectant arc just
within the clay of light. The old men
ranged themselves In front and knelt
with bowed heads.
Almost forgetful of my peril, I studied
the fierce aquiline features of the rem
nant of the lost tribes. The brows were
low and square and sharply denned by
level black eyebrows meeting over the
high-bridged noses. The stature was
rather short and Inclined almost to stock
iness. The women were harder to see,
but several of the children, pressing for
ward with childish eagerness, I observed
to be red cheeked and chubby, with black
curly hair.
Abruptly a sharp sybillant whispering
sound broke the silence. The worshipers
rocked back and forth, and at long in
tervals their lips moved in whispered re
sponses. The Whispering Prophet hissed
his utterances with a rasping vehemence
that made even the words audible in our
place of refuge. For probably, twenty
minutes he whispered. Then there was a
shuffling and a stirring among the peo
ple, and the procession began to reform.
THE eight nearly nude palanquin
bearers headed it, but without the
palanquin or the prophet. The eight
maidens with the
short, scarlet edged
tunics followed. Then
the old men, the young men and the
women and children fell Into the slow,
swaying, rhythmic tread of the march.
We watched their flaring torches grow
dim and listened to the chant that they
set up on withdrawing from the temple
grow fainter. Then Lee Fu, beside me,
stirred. With his lean body Inclined forward
from the waist and his long queue sway
ing like a shadowy serpent In the star
light, we started around the Temple of
Silence. The procession In the village be
low had dispersed. The lights on the flat
roofs' had smoldered to extinction. The
light reflected in the area way before us
grew brighter. No doubt the Red Virgin
was feeding the sacred flame with the
green mineral oil.
I started around the opposite way,
timing my steps so that I and the gaunt
Mongol peered around the last carved
pillar simultaneously. I shall never for
get the spectacle.
A great vaulted dome of granite re
flected the light of the sacred flame. Its
groined arches were supported on huge
pillars of green Jade, Inscribed with mys
tic symbols. Supported on four fluted
columns of beaten silver was a great
platform of green marble. Standing upon
It with sprawling legs of hammer-welded
gold Ingots was the golden calf.
Illustrated by R;7-aJndler
It but roughly counterfeit eO Die ap
pearance of the animal from which It
took its name. Its blunt face was beard
ed and Its great emerald eyes stared
balefully out upon the star-bright heav
ens. Below, In a huge Jasper bowl, or
namented with figures In bas-relief, tk
sacred fire burned brightly. On a graves
throne of black basalt. Just to the right
of the golden calf, sat the Whispering
Prophet.
HIS white-robed figure and high, thh
features were as rigid as marble la
the aged seer's hypnotic trance. His long
arms were stretched out before him,
palms upward, in an unvarying attitude
of supplication. The fire from the Jasper
bowl illumined his fierce, harsh, trans
parent features and wide open blue eyes.
They glowed like amethysts, and saw
for the fact that we had seen him before
he had gone into his trance we might
have mistaken him for a sculpturing in
stone.
Before the Jasper bowl, which reached
to her waist, stood the slender figure of
the Red Virgin. She had cast aside her
white robes and the sacred flame glit
tered in reflection from the natural facets
of a thousand uncut rubles. Upon her
left shoulder, as white and shapely as If
chiseled from alabaster, there rested a
golden vase. She walked with measured
tread toward the sprawling golden Image,
But now like a
great spectral shad
ow I saw him. He
emerged into the
light and was creep
ing up behind the
Red Virgin.
I