Then a priest's voice boomed out in a solemn incantation and the
whispering hushed. He chanted age-old verses, whose very meaning
was forgotten in the womb of time--forgotten as the artist who had
painted the picture of idealized Kharvani on the wall. Ten priests,
five on either side of the tremendous idol, emerged chanting from
the gloom behind, and then a gong rang, sweetly, clearly, suddenly,
and the chanting ceased. Out stepped the High Priest from a niche
below the image, and his voice rose in a wailing, sing-song cadence
that reechoed from the dome and sent a thrill through every one
who heard.
His chant had scarcely ceased when the temple door burst open and
a man rushed in.
"They have begun!" he shouted. "The battle has begun!"
As though in ready confirmation of his words, the distant reverberating
boom of cannon filtered through the doorway from the world of grim
realities outside.
"They have twenty cannon with them! They have more guns than we have!"
wailed he who brought the news. Again began the chanting that sought
the aid of Siva the Destroyer.
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