Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 281: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

272° and depressed. There was little hope that I or any of my companions would escape the fate marked out for us by the stern old man. If Isisora proved to be as firm as he 1n the determina- tion to punish our temerity with death, what power could save us? The remainder of the day passed slowly. I remained alone in my gloom save for the occasional visits of the black slaves who passed before the growling cats with impunity. I tried every art of which I was cap- able to get them to talk. I thought that if I could once gain the good will of one of these creatures I could bribe - or plead my way out of that gorgeous prison. But they knew their duties, and swerved not a hair’s breadth from its narrow path. I was well fed, and all my creature comforts were looked after. But I was there to die. I slept but little that night. I tossed on my luxuriant bed, wondering what the fateful morrow would have in store for me. Each hour as it dragged along carried me nearer threatened death. I shuddered as I asked impotent questions of myself. Would these fa- natics torture me? Would they give me some of the anesthetic used to overcome me in the forest? Would my death be a form of sacrifice to their strange deity? All these and other questions tortured me till daylight. Early my questions were to be an- swered. I heard the growling of the cats and the tread of soft shod feet. A slave entered the room, followed by the priest. “Come,” said Jadispiato, touching me with a golden wand he carried in his right hand. “I am to lead you be- fore Isisora.” “Then my time has come,” I said, preparing to follow him. “You shall learn. J told you what was in store for you. It is now resting with Isisora.” “May she prove less cruel than you,” I said; “I am ready.” THE ARGOSY. Outside the door four blacks stood waiting. They ranged themselves on either side of me, and we walked through wide stone corridors and out upon a great stone porch. From this I had a view such as I had not supposed existed in Brazil. I was in a ruined city, part Spanish and part Moorish. Rude though the architecture had been, in many instan- ces there were the remains of a real magnificence. Towers rose gleaming in the bright sunlight. Great domes on a temple not far distant shone re- splendently. I saw but few people, and most of these were black. I did see a number of white men and women, but these seemed, with the exception of a dozen priests, to be of a degenerate and un- intelligent race. All evinced considerable curiosity as I was conducted along a wide street toward the temple. The entrance to this temple, though showing decay, was highly ornate. It had broad vaulted and pillared porti- coes carved with no rude hand into representations probably of some local legends. We entered here and I was guided at once into the very body of the place, and my breath almost refused to sustain its functions as I gazed upon the scene before me. The interior of the temple was a splendid space, much like the audience chamber of any cathedral. Great carved pillars upheld the arched ceiling, and light streamed through windows that would each have brought a fortune in New York. But the place itself, interesting as it was, sank into insignificance by com- parison with the presiding genius of it all. Within a sort of chancel, clad in gar- ments of snowy whiteness, stood a wo- man—and such a woman. Young she certainly was—not more than eighteen. Her hair was of a beau- tiful golden hue, and was held in some COMIC OOO x CO iin