Her attendants hissed angrily and stamped with their feet to prevent Yermah from being heard. He realized that the demonstration was against himself personally, and was appalled at the virulence of the attack, but went bravely on. “Orondo afflicted no one; neither did he commit perfidy. He was never an accuser, and was only angry when there was just cause—” “Thou art a monstrous liar! He had just cause to be angry with thee, who enticed his first love away, and repaid him with another man’s choice.” Crossing over to him and shaking her finger in his face, defiantly, Rahula fairly shrieked: “Thou hast imperiled thy immortal soul! Dearly shalt thou pay for thine own perfidy! I dare tell thee to thy face, thou art guilty of the unpardonable sin! Thou who wert coward enough to compel thy dead friend to marry this poor misguided creature lying at thy feet! For this cause my Alcamayn died in dishonor!” The warrior-priests clanked their swords angrily, and the smoldering disloyalty was like a tinderbox to the furious gestures and acts of the factions. Setos grabbed Rahula by the arm and shook her violently before she would heed him. “Hast thou no sense of decency, Rahula? Cease thy upbraidings, else wilt thou ruin all!” She quailed before his determined look and was silent. Shaking like a leaf and wounded to the death in his tenderest parts, Yermah once more essayed to speak. Finding that he could not command his voice, he turned appealingly to the musicians, who responded with a funeral air. When they had finished, Yermah, with tears coursing down his cheeks—which he made no effort to conceal, said: “Hirach, as I expect to stand face to face with thee finally, hear me! In that I love Orondo well, conscience doth acquit me of evil intent toward him. Whatever service he rendered me was a pleasure to him, and was of his own choosing. That he preferred duty to success, is one more reason why his bones should be interred with the blessed. There was no guile in him. “He was as tender as a woman, as simple as a child, and faithful unto death. The heart weighing even in the scales of Truth was burst in twain by the sorrows which oppressed his high courage. Struck down in the flower of manhood, hurled through the Gates of Light by unseemly circumstance, Orondo, the soul of honor, merits the rite of consecration. Hear, Hirach, as thou wouldst in turn be heard, and grant as thine own hope of future reward may prompt thee!” The non-resistance and manliness of Yermah did not fail to appeal to a people equable in temper and given to just decision. The waves of feeling which surged through the temple made him aware of this, though the sounds were almost inaudible. Every one waited in dread suspense for Rahula’s final plea. She was still laboring under ill-suppressed excitement, and resentment blazed anew as she spoke.