“Canst thou not be happy, Theos?” she whispered gently—­“Happy as other men are, when loved as thou art loved?”

His upturned gaze rested on the glittering serpents’ heads that crowned her dusky tresses,—­then on the great Eye that stared watchfully between her white breasts.  A strong tremor shook him, and he sighed.

“Happy as other men are, when they love and are deceived in love!”—­he said..  “Yes, even so, Lysia,—­I can be happy!”

She threw one arm about him.  “Thou shalt not be deceived”—­she murmured quickly,—­“Thou shalt be honored above the noblest in the realm, . . thy dearest hopes shall be fulfilled, . . thy utmost desires shall be granted, . . riches, power, fame,—­all shall be thine,—­if thou wilt do my bidding!”

She uttered the last words with slow and meaning emphasis.  He met her eager, burning looks quietly, almost coldly,—­the curious numb apathy of his spirit increased, and when he spoke, his voice was low and faint like the voice of one who speaks unconsciously in his sleep.

“What canst thou ask that I will not grant?” he said listlessly..  “Is it not as it was in the old time,—­thou to command, and I to obey? ...  Speak, fair Queen!—­how can I serve thee?”

Her answer came, swift and fierce as the hiss of a snake: 

“Kill Sah-luma!”

The brief sentence leaped into his brain with the swift, fiery action of some burning drug,—­a red mist rose to his eyes,—­ pushing her fiercely from him, he started to his feet in a bewildered, sick horror.  Kill Sah-luma! ... kill the gracious, smiling, happy creature whose every minute of existence was a joy,—­kill the friend he loved,—­the poet he worshipped! ...  Kill him! ... ah God! ... never! ... never! ...  He staggered backward dizzily,—­and Lysia with a sudden stealthy spring, like that of her favorite tigress, threw herself against his breast and looked up at him, her splendid eyes ablaze with passion, her black hair streaming, her lips curved in a cruel smile, and the hateful Jewel on her breast seeming to flash with ferocious vindictiveness.

“Kill him!” she repeated eagerly—­“Now—­in his sottish slumber,—­ now when he hath lost sight of his Poetmission in the hot fumes of wine,—­now, when, despite his genius, he hath made of himself a thing lower than the beasts!  Kill him! ...—­I will keep good council, and none shall ever know who did the deed!  He loves me, and I weary of his love, . .  I would have him dead—­dead as Nir-jalis! ... but were he to drain the Silver Nectar, the whole city would cry out upon me for his loss,—­therefore he may not perish so.  But an thou wilt slay him, . . see!” and she clung to Theos with the fierce tenacity of some wild animal—­“All this beauty of mine, is thine!—­thy days and nights shall be dreams of rapture,—­thou shalt be second to none in Al-Kyris,—­thou shalt rule with me over King and people,—­and