The
King rises, turning toward NAAMAN, and seems about
to speak. REZON lifts his rod.]
REZON:
Shall not the gods decide when mortals doubt?
Rimmon is master of the city's fate;
We read his will, by our most ancient-faith,
In omens and in signs of mystery.
Must we not hearken to his high commands?
BENHADAD: [Sinking back on the throne, submissively.]
I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House.
Consult the oracle. But who shall read?
REZON:
Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served
Within the temple in her maiden years,
Shall be the mouth-piece of the mighty god,
To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice!
[Gongs and cymbals sound: enter priests carrying
an altar on which a lamb is bound. The altar is
placed in the centre of the hall. TSARPI follows
the priests, covered with a long transparent veil
of black, sown with gold stars; RUAHMAH, in white,
bears her train. TSARPI stands before the altar,
facing it, and lifts her right hand holding a
knife. RUAHMAH steps back, near the throne, her
hands crossed on her breast, her head bowed.
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