A strange throb of melancholy satisfaction stirred his pulses as he reflected that he might now, without any self-conceit, at least admire the poem!—­since he had decided that was no longer his, but another’s, he was free to bestow on it as much as he would of unstinting praise!  For it was very fine,—­there could be no doubt of that, whatever Zabastes might say to the contrary,—­and it was not only fine, but intensely, humanly pathetic, seeming to strike a chord of passion such as had never before been sounded,—­a chord to which the world would be compelled to listen,—­yes,—­compelled! thought Theos exultingly,—­as Sah-luma drew nearer and nearer the close of his dictation ...  The deep quiet all around was so heavy as to be almost uncomfortable in its oppressiveness,—­it exercised a sort of strain upon the nerves ...

Hark! what was that?  Through the hot and silent air swept a sullen surging noise as of the angry shouting of a vast multitude,—­then came the fast and furious gallop of many horses,—­and again that fierce, resentful roar of indignation, swelling up as it seemed from thousands of throats.  Moved, all three at once, by the same instinctive desire to know what was going on, Theos, Sah-luma, and Zabastes sprang from their different places in the room, and hurried out on the marble terrace, dashing aside the silken awnings as they went in order the better to see the open glimpses of the city thoroughfares that lay below.  Theos, leaning far out over the western half of the balustrade, was able to command a distant view of the great Square in which the huge white granite Obelisk occupied so prominent a position, and, fixing his eyes attentively on this spot, saw that it was filled to overflowing with a dense mass of people, whose white-raimented forms, pressed together in countless numbers, swayed restlessly to and fro like the rising waves of a stormy sea.

Lifted above this troubled throng, one tall, dark figure was distinctly outlined against the dazzling face of the Obelisk—­a figure that appeared to be standing on the back of the colossal Lion that lay couchant beneath.  And as Theos strained his sight to distinguish the details of the scene more accurately, he suddenly beheld a glittering regiment of mounted men in armor, charging straightly and with cruelly determined speed, right into the centre of the crowd, apparently regardless of all havoc to life and limb that might ensue.  Involuntarily he uttered an exclamation of horror at what seemed to him so wanton and brutal an act, when just then Sah-luma caught him eagerly by the arm,—­Sah-luma, whose soft, oval countenance was brilliant with excitement, and in whose eyes gleamed a mingled expression of mirth and ferocity.

“Come, come, my friend!” he said hastily—­“Yonder is a sight worth seeing!  ’Tis the mad Khosrul who is thus entrenched and fortified by the mob,—­as I live, that sweeping gallop of His Majesty’s Royal Guards is magnificent!  They will seize the Prophet this time without fail!  Aye, if they slay a thousand of the populace in the performance of their duty!  Come!—­let us hasten to the scene of action—­’twill be a struggle I would not miss for all the world!”