A dozen choirs, possessed of all kinds of beautiful instruments,
caressed the ear with their melodious songs. There was no dim
religious light; everything was open-eyed beneath that splendid dome.
Suddenly a cloud of flying priests and priestesses seated themselves
on a pyramid formed of terraces of solid silver fifty feet in height
that supported the miraculous throne. They at once began to sing with
such force and pathos as to dissolve the multitude into a hush of
breathless silence.

Then an immense bell of bronze filled the pantheon with a sonorous
moan. Twelve thrilling tones made souls tremble and heads bow down.
With the last vibration there rose from the crown of the throne of the
gods a living woman, nude to the waist, having a broad belt of gold
studded with gems clasping her figure, from which fell to her feet a
garment of aquelium lace wrought with magical symbols.

She was a girl of peerless development; her arms were long and softly
moulded, her breasts firm and splendid. The color of her complexion
and flesh was of soft mat gold, like that of golden fruit, and a
perceptible flush warmed her cheeks. Her profile was perfect, being
both proud and tender in outline. Her hair was a heavy glossy mass, of
a pale sapphire-blue color, that fell in a waving cloud around her
shoulders. Her whole figure bore an infinitely gracious expression,
the result of possessing a tender and sympathetic soul.

On her head was a tiara of terrelium, the vermilion metal, studded
with gems, on her neck she wore a necklace of emerald-green sapphires,
while on either wrist were broad gold bracelets, having a magnificent
blue sapphire on each.

She was Lyone, the Supreme Goddess of Atvatabar, the representative of
Harikar, the Holy Soul; Queen of Magicians; Mother of Sorcerers, and
Princess of Arjeels.

Standing erect for a moment, as if to assure the vast congregation of
her presence, she then slowly sat down on a broad divan of aloe-green
silk velvet, holding in her right hand the terrelium sceptre of
spiritual sovereignty, whose head bore two hearts formed of flaming
rubies.

I was entranced with the appearance of the divine girl, the object of
the adoration of Atvatabar. Every feature of her face was carved with
a full and ripe roundness, exhibiting repose and power. Her eyes,
large and blue and lustrous, were sorcery itself. There was in them an
unutterable tenderness, a divine hospitality, the result of vast pride
and