Theos alone remained behind, . . resting his folded arms on the sculptured balustrade, he gazed down, down into those crimson depths till their strange tint dazzled and confused his sight,—­ looking up for relief to the eastern horizon where the sun was just bursting out in full splendor from a pavilion of violet cloud, the red reflection was still before his eyes, so much so, that the very air seemed flushed with spreading fire.

And then like the sound of a tocsin ringing in his ears, the words of the Prophet Khosrul, as pronounced in the presence of the King, recurred to his memory with new and suggestive force.  “Blood—­ blood!  ’Tis A scarlet sea wherein like A broken and empty ship Al-kyris founders,—­founders never to rise again!”

Still painfully oppressed by an increasing sense of some swift-approaching disaster, his thoughts once more reverted anxiously to Sah-luma.  He must be warned,—­yes!—­even if he disdained all warning!  Yet, . . warn him against what?  “Bid him avoid the temple and beware the king!”

So had said Zuriel the Mystic,—­but to the laurelled favorite of the monarch, and idol of the people, such an admonition would seem more than absurd!  It was useless to talk to him about the prophecies of Khosrul,—­he had heard them all, and laughed them to scorn.

“How can I”—­then mused Theos disconsolately,—­“How can I make him believe that some undeclared evil threatens him, when he is at the very pinnacle of fame and fortune with all Al-Kyris at his feet? ...  He would never listen to me, ... nor would any persuasions of mine induce him to leave the city where his name is so glorious and his renown so firmly established.  Of Lysia’s treachery I may perhaps convince him, ... yet even in this attempt I may fail, and incur his hatred for my pains!  If I had only myself to consider! ... “—­And here his reflections suddenly took a strange, unbidden turn.  If he had only himself to consider! ... well, what then!  Was it not just within the bounds of probability that, under the same circumstances, he might be precisely as self-willed and as haughtily opinionated as the friend whose arrogance he deplored, yet could not alter?

So pointed a suggestion was not exactly suited to his immediate humor, and he felt curiously vexed with himself for indulging in such a foolish association of ideas!  The positions were entirely different, he argued, angrily addressing the troublesome inward monitor that every now and then tormented him,—­there was no resemblance whatever between himself, the unknown, unfamed wanderer in a strange land, and the brilliant Sah-luma, chosen Poet Laureate of the realm!

No resemblance, . . none at all! ... he reiterated over and over again in his own mind, . . except ... except, ... well! ... except in perhaps a few trifling touches of character and temper that were scarcely worth the noting!  At this juncture, his uncomfortable reverie was interrupted by the sound of a harsh, metallic voice close behind him.