Even though Nikander had guessed this, he was startled at her telling. “Oh, Father, so living beautiful he was, with the dawn in his face and power shining from all of him! All the statues in the Precinct should be broken. They are not my god.” “We must leave them,” said her father gently, “for those of us who cannot see.” “First,” she went on, “I saw only a golden light upon my path, which followed me and frightened me.” Even as she spoke, her eyes grew starry and her father caught her shoulder, shaking her. “No, do not tell me, child. Be still. The dumbness may come again.” “No, it will not,” she smiled. “Apollo promised.” “Great heaven, did he speak?” “Yes, yes.” Then she told as near as she remembered the words of the message. Oracle it could hardly be called, as it was a revelation for her alone. Theria, daughter of Delphi, begone from my temple. My bow shall not hurt thee, Nay, for I love thee. I shall be able without thee. I shall care for my own. And how the god had turned and shot his terrible shaft away from her over Mount Parnassos toward the north. Nikander was uplifted, overwhelmed. He went hastily and fetched tablet and stylus and wrote it down for the temple records. He was hopeful, fairly trembling from what he guessed this message might mean for his daughter’s future. Theria herself thought only of the god’s forgiveness. “Apollo said that he loved me,” she repeated. “He said it. And he laughed at me because I wanted him to slay me.” What would the priests think of this message of the god? Nikander hardly dared hope that they would put upon it the interpretation which he so desired. No pythia had ever been freed from priesthood. Indeed, if he told the vision, must it not bring them to a knowledge of her false oracle, the punishment of which would be death? His face grew set with thought. But yes, he would risk even that fate in the hope of what the god’s message might do for her. He kissed his child and hurried out to find Timon and the other priests. How changed already were the streets, empty of folk. The houses closed and locked or left open in the haste of flight, showing the vacant rooms. He found Timon in the Precinct. But Timon was wholly indifferent to Theria’s part of the god’s message. It was the hurtling shaft of Phœbus which interested him. “It was shot toward Parnassos, you say? That is a good omen,” he asserted. Nikander could not be sure. But he soon saw that the priests were too beset now with their fears and instant business to consider Theria’s status as priestess—the matter so dear to his heart.