H. Rider Haggard,
Elissa; Or, The Doom of Zimbabwe
“ Have I not given you enough of beauty to snare a single soul from among the servants of my enemy the God of the Jews?” “Nay, nay!” her heart cried; “I will not tempt him to do this evil thing.” “Yea, yea!” mocked the phantom Voice; “for your sake he shall burn incense upon my altar.” The phantasy passed, and now the golden gates of the palace of Baaltis rolled open before Elissa. Now, too, the priestesses bore her to the golden throne shaped like a crescent moon, and threw over her a black veil spangled with stars, symbol of the night. ”
