He walked slowly, with proudly-assured mien and a confident smile,—­bowing right and left in response to the respectful salutations he received from all assembled,—­many persons glanced inquisitively at Theos, but as he was the Laureate’s companion he was saluted with nearly equal courtesy.  The old critic Zabastes, squeezing his lean, bent body from out the throng, hobbled after Sah-luma at some little distance behind the harp-bearer, muttering to himself as he went, and bestowing many a side-leer and malicious grin on those among his acquaintance whom he here and there recognized.  Theos noted his behavior with a vague sense of amusement,—­the man took such evident delight in his own ill-humor, and seemed to be so thoroughly convinced that his opinion on all affairs was the only one worth having.

“Thou must check thy tongue today, Zabastes!” said a handsome youth in dazzling blue and silver, who, just then detaching himself from the crowd, laid a hand on the Critic’s arm and laughed as he spoke—­“I doubt me much whether the King is in humor for thy grim fooling!  His Majesty hath been seriously discomposed since his return from the royal tiger-hunt this morning, notwithstanding that his unerring spear slew two goodly and most furious animals.  He is wondrous sullen,-and only the divine Sah-luma is skilled in the art of soothing his troubled spirit.  Therefore,—­if thou hast aught of crabbed or cantankerous to urge against thy master’s genius, thou hadst best reserve it for another time, lest thy withered head roll on the market-place with as little reverence as a dried gourd flung from a fruiterer’s stall!”

“I thank thee for thy warning, young jackanapes!” retorted Zabastes, pausing in his walk and leaning on his staff while he peered with his small, black, bad-tempered eyes at the speaker-“Thou art methinks somewhat over well-informed for a little lacquey!  What knowest thou of His Majesty’s humors?  Hast been his fly-i’-the-ear or cast-off sandal-string?  I pray thee extend not thy range of learning beyond the proper temperature of the bath, and the choice of rare unguents for thy skin-greater knowledge than this would injure the tender texture of thy fragile brain!  Pah!”—­and Zabastes sniffed the air in disgust—­“Thou hast a most vile odor of jessamine about thee! ...  I would thou wert clean of perfumes and less tawdry in attire!”

Chuckling hoarsely he ambled onward, and chancing to, catch the wondering backward glance of Pheos, he made expressive signs with his fingers in derision of Sah-luma’s sweeping mantle, which now, allowed to fall to its full length, trailed along the marble floor with a rich, rustling sound, the varied light sparkling on it at every point and making it look like a veritable shower of gold.

On through the seemingly endless colonnades they passed, till they came to a huge double door formed of two glittering, colossed winged figures holding enormous uplifted shields.  Here stood a personage clad in a silver coat-of-mail, so motionless that at first he appeared to be part of the door, .. but at the approach of Sah-luma he stirred into life and action, and touching a spring beside him, the arms of the twin colossi moved, the great double shields were slowly lowered, and the portals slid asunder noiselessly, thus displaying the sumptuous splendor of the Royal Presence-Chamber.