“What a dark, still, melancholy countenance is thine, Sir Theos!” she said abruptly—­“Thou art, for sure, a man of strongly repressed and concentrated passions, ... ’tis a nature I love!  I would there were more of thy proud and chilly temperament in Al-Kyris! ...  Our men are like velvet-winged butterflies, drinking honey all day and drowsing in sunshine—­full to the brows of folly,—­frail and delicate as the little dancing maidens of the King’s seraglio, . . nervous too, with weak heads, that art apt to ache on small provocation, and bodies that are apt to fail easily when but slightly fatigued.  Aye!—­thou art a man clothed complete in manliness,—­moreover...”

She paused, and leaning forward so that the dark shower of her perfumed hair brushed his arm ...  “Hast ever heard travellers talk of volcanoes? ... those marvellous mountains that oft wear crowns of ice on their summits and yet hold unquenchable fire in their depths? ...  Methinks thou dost resemble these,—­and that at a touch, the flames would leap forth uncontrolled!”

Her magical low voice, more melodious in tone than the sound of harps played by moonlight on the water, thrilled in his ears and set his pulses beating madly,—­with an effort he checked the torrent of love-words that rushed to his lips, and looked at her in a sort of wildly wondering appeal.  Her laughter rang out in silvery sweet ripples, and throwing herself lazily back in her throne, she called..

“Aizif! ...  Aizif!”

The great tigress instantly bounded forward like an obedient hound, and placed its fore-paws on her knees, while she playfully held a sugared comfit high above its head.

“Up, Aizif! up!” she cried mirthfully..  “Up! and be like a man for once! ... snatch thy pleasure at all hazards!”

With a roar, the savage brute leaped and sprang, its sharp white teeth fully displayed, its sly green eyes glisteningly prominent, —­and again Lysia’s rich laughter pealed forth, mingling with the impatient snarls of her terrific favorite.  Still she held the tempting morsel in her little snowy hand that glittered all over with rare gems,—­and still the tigress continued to make impotent attempts to reach it, growing more and more ferocious with every fresh effort,—­till all at once she shut her palm upon the dainty so that it could not be seen, and lightly catching the irritated beast by the throat brought its eyes on a level with her own.  The effect was instantaneous, ... a strong shudder passed through its frame—­and it cowered and crouched lower and lower, in abject fear,—­the sweat broke out, and stood in large drops on its sleek hide, and panting heavily, as the firm grasp its mistress slowly relaxed, it sank down prone, in trembling abasement on the second step of the dais, still looking up into those densely brilliant gazelle eyes that were full of such deadly fascination and merciless tyranny.

“Good Aizif!” said Lysia then, in that languid, soft voice, that while so sweet, suggested hidden treachery..  “Gentle fondling! ...  Thou hast fairly earned thy reward! ...  Here! ... take it!”—­and unclosing her roseate palm, she showed the desired bonne-bouche, and offered it with a pretty coaxing air,—­but the tigress now refused to touch it, and lay as still as an animal of painted stone.