And Theria quick as thought darted into her beloved fane. How lofty it was within, the flickering light from the hearth-flame playing everywhere and meeting palely the day that poured in at the eastern door. This hearth-flame was eternal and must never go out. An old priestess was tending it. Theria paused by the famous navel stone which marked the centre of the earth. Who knows how many thousands of years men had worshipped it. It was a rude stone, but immeasurably holy. Two golden eagles were perched either side of it—commemorating those whom Zeus had sent to meet at Delphi. Farther within, near the Statues of the Fates, was Pindar’s chair, waiting for him always to come and sit and sing inspired songs—the songful Apollo welcoming the human singer and giving him of his own divine fire. Theria bent and kissed the chair for the love she bore the poet. As she did so her shoulder was seized and roughly shaken. “What do you mean by coming in here when I had forbidden you?” said the furious priest. Theria was too startled to speak. “Answer me!” he shouted. “I had wished for this,” she faltered. “Perhaps I can never come——” “I should say not.” Theria came to herself and stood like a tall goddess. “How dare you speak to me like that?” she cried. “How dare you?” But the priest seized her shoulder again. “Get out,” he stormed. “The priests even now are coming up the road with visitors. Get out, I say.” Theria had no time for either dignity or resistance. The youth pushed her out of the cella, across the temple porch and down the steps. She fled across the platform. A single glance showed her the whole Precinct below. The little shrines, unearthly in new golden light, the bronze tripods all aglitter. Yes, and the Way! The priests coming up the Way. She was in terror—not of punishment, but of more unkindness. She was almost sobbing. CHAPTER XIII IN PLEISTOS WOODS She sped across the road and hid behind the Phokian offering. She could hear the priests’ pleasant voices talking of Delphi. From where she stood a little path set out here behind the shrines and treasuries. She followed it to the Precinct wall and went searching for a side gate. Found one at last. The keeper was almost asleep. “Let me pass out,” she commanded. “Let me pass at once.” The man spat. “Now, Missy, this here lock’s rusty. You go on down to the big gate. It won’t be far.” “I will not go to the great gate. Be quick or I shall have you punished.” Theria’s voice had a ring of command. Besides, she did not speak the dialect of women, but the speech of men. “I will, Missy; I will,” hastily said the man, fishing the key from his belt and fitting it. Noisily it creaked. Theria twisted her fingers in nervous fear. She could hear footsteps again. The Precinct was filling. “It’s awful rusty, Missy: I can’t—— Ho, Hermes! there it goes.” The door swung open and Theria darted out.