To judge from the dignity of their appearance,
they seemed one and all to be individuals of very great importance.
Behind each of these great men stood a small knot of followers
and attendants.
Seated by themselves, in a little group to the left of the throne,
were six men of a different stamp. Instead of wearing the ordinary
kilt, they were clothed in long robes of pure white linen, with
the same symbol of the sun that is to be seen on the back of
the chairs, emblazoned in gold thread upon the breast. This
garment was girt up at the waist with a simple golden curb-like
chain, from which hung long elliptic plates of the same metal,
fashioned in shiny scales like those of a fish, that, as their
wearers moved, jingled and reflected the light. They were all
men of mature age and of a severe and impressive cast of features,
which was rendered still more imposing by the long beards they wore.
The personality of one individual among them, however, impressed
us at once. He seemed to stand out among his fellows and refuse
to be overlooked. He was very old -- eighty at least -- and
extremely tall, with a long snow-white beard that hung nearly
to his waist. His features were aquiline and deeply cut, and
his eyes were grey and cold-looking.
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