Nir-jalis heeded him not.  His eyes were fixed on Lysia, like the eyes of a tortured animal who vainly seeks for mercy at the hand of its destroyer.  Step by step he came hesitatingly to the foot of her throne, . . and it was then that Theos perceived rear at hand a personage he immediately recognized,—­the black scarlet-clad slave Gazia, who had brought Lysia’s message to Sah-luma that same afternoon.  He had made his appearance now so swiftly and silently, that it was impossible to tell where he had come from,—­and he stood close to Nir-jalis, his muscular firms folded tightly across his chest, and his hideous mouth contorted into a grin of cruel amusement and expectancy.  Absolute quiet reigned within the magnificent banquet hall, . . the music had ceased,—­and not a sound could be heard, save the delicate murmur of the wind outside swaying the water-lilies on the moonlit lake.  Every one’s attention was centred on the unhappy young man, who with lifted head and rigidly clasped hands, faced Lysia as a criminal faces a judge, . .  Lysia, whose dazzling smile beamed upon him with the brightness of summer sunbeams,—­Lysia, whose exquisite voice lost none of its richness as she spoke his doom.

“By the vow which thou hast vowed to me, Nir-jalis—­” she said slowly.. “and by thine oath sworn on the Symbolic Eye of Raphon".. here she touched the dreadful Jewel on her breast—­“which bound thy life to my keeping, and thy death to my day of choice, I herewith bestow on thee the Chalice of Oblivion—­the Silver Nectar of Peace!  Sleep, and wake no more!—­drink and die!  The gateways of the Kingdom of Silence stand open to receive thee! ... thy service is finished! ... ... fare-thee-well!”

With the utterance of the last word, she gave him the glittering cup she held.  He took it mechanically,—­and for one instant glared about him on all sides, scanning the faces of the attentive guests as though in the faint hope of some pity, some attempt at rescue.  But not a single look of compassion was bestowed upon him save by Theos, who, full of struggling amazement and horror, would have broken out into indignant remonstrance, had not an imperative glance from Sah-luma warned him that any interference on his part would only make matters worse.  He therefore, sorely against his will, and only for Sah-luma’s sake, kept silence, watching Nir-jalis meanwhile in a sort of horrible fascination.

There was something truly awful in the radiant unquenchable laughter that lurked in Lysia’s lovely eyes, . . something positively devilish in the grace of her manner, as with a negligent movement, she reseated herself in her crystal throne, and taking a knot of magnolia-flowers that lay beside her, idly toyed with their creamy buds, all the while keeping her basilisk gaze fixed immovably and relentlessly on her sentenced victim.  He, grasping the lily-shaped chalice convulsively in his right hand, looked up despairingly to the polished dome of malachite, with its revolving globe of fire that shed a solemn blood-red glow upon his agonized young face, . . a smile was on his lips,—­the dreadful smile of desperate, maddened misery.