- end_line
- 866
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 837
- text
- whose duty it was to provide the sacrifices. And when crouching in some
covert, the fugitive spied Xiki’s approach, so fearful did he become of
the vengeance of the deity he sought to evade, that renouncing all hope
of escape, he would burst from his lair, exclaiming, “Come on, and
kill!” baring his breast for the javelin that slew him.
The chronicles of Maramma were full of horrors.
In the wild heart of the island, was said still to lurk the remnant of
a band of warriors, who, in the days of the sire of the present
pontiff, had risen in arms to dethrone him, headed by Foni, an upstart
prophet, a personage distinguished for the uncommon beauty of his
person. With terrible carnage, these warriors had been defeated; and
the survivors, fleeing into the interior, for thirty days were pursued
by the victors. But though many were overtaken and speared, a number
survived; who, at last, wandering forlorn and in despair, like
demoniacs, ran wild in the woods. And the islanders, who at times
penetrated into the wilderness, for the purpose of procuring rare
herbs, often scared from their path some specter, glaring through the
foliage. Thrice had these demoniacs been discovered prowling about the
inhabited portions of the isle; and at day-break, an attendant of the
holy Morai once came upon a frightful figure, doubled with age, helping
itself to the offerings in the image of Doleema. The demoniac was
slain; and from his ineffaceable tatooing, it was proved that this was
no other than Foni, the false prophet; the splendid form he had carried
into the rebel fight, now squalid with age and misery.
- title
- Chunk 2