His voice broke in a short, smothered sigh,—­Theos surveyed him with mingled impatience, pity, and something of repulsion, and there was a warm touch of indignant remonstrance in his tone when he called again: 

“Sah-luma!  Rouse thee, man, for very shame’s sake!  Art thou dead to the honor of thy calling, that thou dost wilfully consent to be the victim of wine-bibbing and debauchery?  O thou frail soul! how hast thou quenched the heavenly essence within thee! ... why wilt thou be thus self-disgraced and all inglorious?  Sah-luma!  Sah-luma!”—­and he shook him violently by the arm—­“Up,—­up, thou truant to the faith of Art!  I will not let thee drowse the hours away in such unseemliness, . . wake! for the night is almost past,—­ the morning is at hand, and danger threatens thee,—­wouldst thou be found here drunk at sunrise?”

This time Sah-luma was thoroughly disturbed, and with a half uttered oath he sat up, pushed his tumbled hair from his brows, and stared at his companion in blinking, sleepy wonderment.

“Now, by my soul! ... thou art a most unmannerly ruffian!” he said pettishly, yet with a vacant smile,—­“what question didst thou bawl unmusically in mine ear?  Will I be drunk at sunrise?  Aye! ... and at sunset too, Sir Malapert, if that will satisfy thee!  Hast thou been grudged sufficient wine that thou dost envy me my slumber?  What dost thou here? ... where hast thou been?".. and, becoming more conscious of his surroundings he suddenly stood up, and catching hold of Theos to support himself, gazed upon him suspiciously with very dim and bloodshot eyes ...  “Art thou fresh from the arms of the ravishing Nelida? ... is she not fair? a choice morsel for a lover’s banquet? ...  Doth she not dance a madness into the veins? ... aye, aye!—­she was reserved for thee, my jolly roysterer! but thou art not the first nor wilt thou be the last that hath revelled in her store of charms!  No matter!”—­ and he laughed foolishly ...  “Better a wild dancer than a tame prude!” Here he looked about him in confused bewilderment..  “Where is Lysia?  Was she not here a moment since? ...” and he staggered toward the neighboring pavilion, and dashed the dividing curtain aside ...  “Lysia! ...  Lysia! ...” he shouted noisily,—­then, receiving no answer, he flung himself down on the vacant couch of roses, and gathering up a handful of the crumpled flowers, kissed them passionately,—­“The witch has flown!” he said, laughing again that mirthless, stupid laugh as he spoke—­“She doth love to tantalize me thus! ...  Tell me! what dost thou think of her?  Is she not a peerless moon of womanhood? ... doth she not eclipse all known or imaginable beauty? ...  Aye! ... and I will tell thee a secret,—­she is mine!—­mine from the dark tresses down to the dainty feet! ... mine, all mine, so long as I shall please to call her so! ...—­notwithstanding that the foolish people of Al-Kyris think she is impervious to love, self-centered, holy and ‘immaculate’!