THE EMBASSY Weak as she was still with recent illness, half-fainting also from the shock of the terrible and unexpected fate which had overtaken her, Elissa was borne in triumph to the palace that now was hers.

Around her gilded litter priestesses danced and sang their wild chants, half-bacchanalian and half-religious; before it marched the priests of El, clashing cymbals and crying, "Make way, make way for the new-born goddess! Make way for her whose throne is upon the horned moon!" while all about the multitude of spectators prostrated themselves in worship.
Elissa was borne in triumph.

Vaguely she heard the shouts and music, dimly she saw the dancing-girls and the bowing crowds.

But all the while her heart was alive with pain and her brain, crushed beneath the menace of this misery, could grasp nothing clearly save the completeness of her loss.

Loss! Yes, she was lost indeed.