Sah-luma smiled and bowed gracefully in response to this enthusiastic assurance of his sovereign’s friendship,—­but nevertheless there was a slight shadow of uneasiness on his bold, beautiful brows.  He had evidently been uncomfortably impressed by Khosrul’s words, and the restless anxiety reflected in his face communicated itself by a sort of electric thrill to Theos, whose heart began to beat heavily with a sense of vague alarm.  “What is this Khosrul?” he thought half resentfully—­“and how dares he predict for the adored, the admired Sah-luma so dark and unmerited an end? ...  “Hark! ... what was that low, far-off rumbling as of underground wheels rolling at full speed? ...  He listened,—­then glanced at those persons who stood nearest to him, . . no one seemed to hear anything unusual.  Moreover all eyes were fixed fearfully on Khosrul, whose before rigidly sombre demeanor had suddenly changed, and who now with raised head, tossed hair, outstretched arms, and wild gestures looked like a flaming Terror personified.

“Victory...  Victory!” he cried, catching at the King’s last word ...  “There shall be no more victory for thee, Zephoranim! ...  Thy conquests are ended, and the flag of thy glory shall cease to wave on the towers of thy strong citadels!  Death stands behind thee! ...  Destruction clamors at thy palace-gates! ... and the enemy that cometh upon thee unawares is an enemy that none shall vanquish or subdue, not even they who are mightiest among the mighty!  Thy strong men of war shall be trodden down as wheat,—­thy captains and rulers shall tremble and wail as children bewildered with fear:—­thy great engines of battle shall be to thee as naught,—­and the arrows of thy skilled archers shall be useless as straws in the gathering tempest of fire and fury!  Zephoranim!  Zephoranim! ...” and his voice shrilled with terrific emphasis through the vaulted chamber ...  “The days of recompense are come upon thee,—­swift and terrible as the desert-wind! ...  The doom of Al-Kyris is spoken, and who shall avert its fulfilment!  Al-Kyris the Magnificent shall fall.. shall fall! ... its beauty, its greatness, its pleasantness, its power, shall be utterly destroyed.. and ere the waning of the midsummer moon not one stone of its glorious buildings shall be left to prove that here was once a city?  Fire! ...  Fire! ...” and here he ran abruptly to the foot of the royal dais, his dark garments brushing against Theos as he passed,—­and springing on the first step, stood boldly within hand-reach of the King, who, taken aback by the suddenness of his action, stared at him with a sort of amazed and angry fascination..  “To arms, Zephoranim! ...  To arms! ... take up thy sword and shield.. get thee forth and fight with fire!  Fire! ...  How shall the King quench it? ... how shall the mighty monarch defend his people against it?  See you not how it fills the air with red devouring tongues of flame! ... the thick smoke reeks of blood! ...  Al-Kyris the Magnificent, the pleasant city of sin,