He had received no
word from the High Priest announcing the success of the revolution, but
there might be many reasons for that. It was with unruffled contentment
that he bade his charioteer drive him to the palace. He was glad to get
back, for after all a holiday is hardly a holiday if you have left your
business affairs unsettled.
As he drove, the chariot passed a fair open space, on the outskirts of
the city. A sudden chill froze the serenity of Ascobaruch's mood. He
prodded the charioteer sharply in the small of the back.
"What is that?" he demanded, catching his breath.
All over the green expanse could be seen men in strange robes, moving
to and fro in couples and bearing in their hands mystic wands. Some
searched restlessly in the bushes, others were walking briskly in the
direction of small red flags. A sickening foreboding of disaster fell
upon Ascobaruch.
The charioteer seemed surprised at the question.
"Yon's the muneecipal linx," he replied.
"The what?"
"The muneecipal linx."
"Tell me, fellow, why do you talk that way?"
"Whitway?"
"Why, like that.
Pages:
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311