with eager, dazzled eyes and heavily beating heart, ..the mysterious passion of mingled love and hatred he felt for Lysia stole over him more strongly than ever in the sultry air of this strange night, . . this night of sweet delirium, in which all that was most dangerous and erring in his nature woke into life and mastered his better will!  A curious, instinctive knowledge swept across his mind,—­namely that Sah-luma’s emotions were the faithful reflex of his own,—­but as he had felt no anger against his rival in fame, so now he had no jealousy of his possible rival in love.  Their sympathies were too closely united for distrust to mar the friendship so ardently begun, ... nevertheless, as he fell resistlessly deeper and deeper into the glittering snares that were spread for his destruction, he was conscious of evil though he lacked force to overcome it.  At any rate, he would save Sah-luma from harm, he resolved, if he could not save himself!  Meantime he watched the bewildering evolutions and witching entanglements of the gliding maze of fair faces, snowy bosoms and twining limbs, that palpitated to and fro under the soft rose-light of the dome like white flowers colored by the sunset, and, glancing ever and again at Lysia’s imperial sorceress-beauty, he thought dreamily ...  “Better the love that kills than no love at all!” And he thereupon gave himself up a voluntary captive to the sway of his own passions, determining to enjoy the immediate present, no matter what the future might have in store.  Outside, the water-lilies nodded themselves to sleep in their shrouding, dark leaves, . . and the unbroken smoothness of the lake spread itself out in the moon like a sheet of molten gold over the spot where Nir-jalis had found his chilly rest.  “The curse of the dead Nir-jalis shall cling!” Yes,—­possibly!—­in the hereafter! ... but now his parting malison seemed but a foolish clamor against destiny, ... he was gone! ... none of his late companions missed him, ... none regretted him—­like all dead men, once dead he was soon forgotten!

CHAPTER XIX.

A strange temptation.

On went the dance, ... faster, faster, and ever faster!  Only the pen of some mirth-loving, rose-crowned Greek bard could adequately describe the dazzling, wild beauty and fantastic grace of those whirling fairy forms, that now inspired to a bacchante-like ardor, urged one another to fresh speed with brief soft cries of musical rapture!  Now advancing,—­now retreating ... now intermingling all together in an undulating garland of living loveliness, ... now parting asunder with an air of sweet coquettishness and caprice, ...—­anon meeting again, and winding arm within arm,—­till bending forward in attitudes