'Infamy!' shouted the thousands
from before, behind, from either side. 'Infamy' sounded from the
ceilings of the Palace, the Hall of the Throne, the deep mines and
limitless Treasury! Some among the crowd hastened to greet him by his
new name, while others fastened to his garments the glittering orders
and diamond crosses. Some commanded him to bow before them, while others
ordered him to trample under foot the still smouldering ashes of his
Mother!
That thought sent the blood back in hot torrents to his heart. He broke
through the surrounding throng, rushed on, fled from the Presence
Chamber, eagerly looking for his bride. He saw her leaning on the arm of
another, mocking and jeering with the rest. He glides on behind the
statues, steals along the recesses, is discovered, and again flies
before the enemy. The Palace winds before him into countless
labyrinths--nowhere is shelter to be found sneers, menaces, insults, are
everywhere around him--but worse than all, _the curse is now within his
soul_!
Then he suddenly turns to meet his enemies; he baffles them at first,
but countless numbers are upon him. They hurl him to the ground, trample
him under foot, and pass on singing a song from the land of his Mother.
As he rises, fresh numbers assail him, he bids defiance to them all,
struggles, advances, until foaming, bleeding, sinking, he is again
driven back, again forced to seek an outlet from the Palace.
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