"Let us go." In a few minutes the priest of Anion and the chief of the kolchytes were being carried towards the valley in their litters.

A taricheut followed them, who sat on a seat between two asses, and carefully carried a casket of ivory, in which reposed the ram's heart.
The old paraschites watched the priests disappear behind the tamarisk bushes.

He longed to run after them, and tell them everything.
His conscience quaked with self reproach, and if his sluggish intelligence did not enable him to take in at a glance all the results that his deed might entail, he still could guess that he had sown a seed whence deceit of every kind must grow.

He felt as if he had fallen altogether into sin and falsehood, and that the goddess of truth, whom he had all his life honestly served, had reproachfully turned her back on him.

After what had happened never could he hope to be pronounced a "truth-speaker" by the judges of the dead.