CHAPTER XXI
A VEIL IS DRAWN
Edith gazed at the apparition in bewildered surprise. The splendor of the flooding color had taken away her breath. She did not understand how the old priest, motionless in the stream of light, could survive the heat. But his aged face was tranquil.
A murmur rose from the throng; dark eyes shone. Then the vapor and the temple itself were plunged in semidarkness. The aperture in the dome had been closed. Edith could no longer see the priest
Following an interval of quiet, came the rustle of many bare feet as the Sayaks began to pass out of the mosque. Now that her eyes were more accustomed to the dim light Edith could see them gathering up their prayer rugs.
Her quick mind had caught the explanation of the radiant color of the vapor clouds. It could have been nothing less than a rainbow. Light, from the opening in the dome, had fallen upon the steam and gathered strength until the clouds of moisture reflected the prismatic coloring of the rainbow.
But the performance of the hadji was still beyond her understanding.
"It is a ritual," whispered Donovan, who had drawn nearer in the shadow, "that occurs only two or three times in a summer. Then the priest of Yakka Arik
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