There was a great quietness everywhere,—­the rising and falling inflections of Sah-luma’s soft, rich voice rather, deepened than disturbed the stillness,—­the pen of Zabastes glided noiselessly over the slips of papyrus,—­and the small sounds of the outer air, such as the monotonous hum of bees among the masses of lily-bloom that towered in white clusters between the festooned awnings, the thirsty twitterimg of birds hiding under the long palm leaves to shelter themselves from the heat, and the incessant splash of the fountains, ... all seemed to be, as it were, mere appendages to enhance the breathless hush of nature.  Presently Sah-luma paused, —­and Zabastes, heaving a sigh of relief, looked up from his writing, and laid down his pen.

’The work is finished, most illustrious?” he demanded, a curious smile playing on his thin, satirical lips.

“Finished?” echoed Sah-luma disdainfully—­“Nay,—­’tis but the end of the First Canto”

The scribe gave vent to a dismal groan.

“Ye gods!” he exclaimed—­“Is there more to come of this bombastic ranting and vile torturing of phrases unheard of and altogether unnatural!  O Sah-luma!—­marvellous Sah-luma! twaddler Sah-luma! what a brain box is thine! ...  How full of dislocated word-puzzles and similes gone mad!  Now, as I live, expect no mercy from me this time!".. and he shook his head threateningly,—­“For if the public news sheet will serve me as mine anvil, I will so pound thee in pieces with the sledge-hammer of my criticism, that, by the Ship of the Sun! ... for once Al-Kyns shall be moved to laughter at thee!  Mark me, good tuner-up of tinkling foolishness! ...  I will so choose out and handle thy feeblest lines that they shall seem but the doggerel of a street ballad monger!  I will give so bald an epitome of this sickly love-tale that it shall appeal to all who read my commentary the veriest trash that ever poet penned! ...  Moreover, I can most admirably misquote thee, and distort thy meanings with such excellent bitter jesting, that thou thyself shall scarcely recognize thine own production!  By Nagaya’s Shrine! what a feast ’twill be for my delectation!”—­and he rubbed his hands gleefully—­“With what a weight of withering analysis I can pulverize this idol of ‘Nourhalma’ into the dust and ashes of a common sense contempt!”

While Zabastes thus spoke, Sah-luma had helped himself, by way of refreshment, to two ripe figs, in whose luscious crimson pulp his white teeth met, with all the enjoying zest of a child’s healthy appetite.  He now held up the rind and stalks of these devoured delicacies, and smiled.

’Thus wilt thou swallow up my poem in thy glib clumsiness, Zabastes!” he said lightly—­“And thus wilt them hold up the most tasteless portions of the whole for the judgment of the public!  ’Tis the manner of thy craft,—­yet see!”—­and with a dexterous movement of his arm he threw the fruit-peel through the window far out into the garden beyond—­“There