“‘Only’ for the sake of custom!” repeated Sah-luma amusedly—­“Nay, good Zel, custom should be surely classified as an exceeding powerful god, inasmuch as it rules all things, from the cut of our clothes to the form of our creeds!”

“True!” replied Zel imperturbably.  “And he who despises custom becomes an alien from his kind,—­a moral leper among the pure and clean.”

“Oh, say rather a lion among sheep, a giant among pigmies!” laughed the Laureate,—­“For by my soul, a man who had the courage to scorn custom, and set the small hypocrisies of society at defiance, would be a glorious hero! a warrior of strange integrity whom it would be well worth travelling miles to see!”

“Khosrul was such an one!” interposed Theos suddenly.

“Tush, man!  Khosrul was mad!” retorted Sah-luma.

“Are not all men thought mad who speak the truth?” queried Theos gently.

The priest Zel looked at him with proud and supercilious eyes.

“Thou hast strange notions for one still young,” he said ...  “What art thou? ... a new disciple of the Mystics? ... or a student of the Positive Doctrines?”

Theos met his gaze unflinchingly.  “What am I?” he murmured sadly, and his voice trembled, ...  “Reverend Priest, I am nothing! ...  Great are the sufferings of men who have lost their wealth, their home, their friends, ... but I ...  I have lost Myself!  Were I anything ... could I ever hope to be anything, I would pray to be accepted a servant of the Cross, ... that far-off unknown Faith to which my tired spirit clings!”

As he uttered these words, he raised his eyes, ... how dim and misty at the moment seemed the tall white figure of the majestic Zel! and in contrast to it, how brilliantly distinct Sah-luma’s radiant face appeared, turned toward him in inquiring wonderment! ...  He felt a swooning dizziness upon him, but the sensation swiftly passed, and he saw the haughty Priest’s dark brows bent upon him in a frown of ominous disapproval.

“’Tis well thou art not a citizen of Al-Kyris”—­he said scornfully—­“To strangers we accord a certain license of opinion, —­but if thou wert a native of these realms, thy speech would cost thee dear!  As it is, I warn thee! ... dare not to make public mention of the Cross, the accursed Emblem of the dead Khosrul’s idolatry, ... guard thy tongue heedfully!—­and thou, Sah-luma if thou dost bring this rashling with thee to the Temple, thou must take upon thyself all measures for his safety.  For in these days, some words are like firebrands, and he who casts them forth incautiously may kindle flames that only the forfeit of his life can quench.”

There was a quiver of suppressed fury in his tone, and Sah-luma lifted his lazy lids, and looked at him with an air of tranquil indifference.