Fascinated by the aspect of the weird sky-phenomenon, Theos was at the same time curiously impressed by a sense of its unreality, . . indeed he found himself considering it with the calm attentiveness of one who is brought face to face with a remarkable picture effectively painted.  This peculiar sensation, however, was, like many others of his experience, very transitory, . . it passed, and he watched the lightnings come and go with a certain hesitating fear mingled with wonder.  Sah-luma was the first to speak.

“Storm at last!” ... he said, forcing a smile though his face was unusually pale,—­“It has threatened us all day...’twill break before the night is over.  How sullenly yonder heavens frown! ... they have quenched the sun in their sable darkness as though it were a beaten foe!  This will seem an ill sign to those who worship him as a god,—­for truly he doth appear to have withdrawn himself in haste and anger.  By my soul!  ’Tis a dull and ominous eve!” ... and a slight shudder ran through his delicate frame, as he turned toward the white-pillared loggia garlanded with its climbing vines, roses, and passion-flowers, through which there now floated a dim golden, suffused radiance reflected from lamps lit within, . .  “I would the night were past and that the new day had come!”

With these words, he entered the house, Theos accompanying him, and together they went at once to the banqueting-hall.  There they supped royally, served by silent and attentive slaves,—­they themselves, feeling mutually depressed, yet apparently not wishing to communicate their depression one to the other, conversed but little.  After the repast was finished, they set forth on foot to the Temple, Sah-luma informing his companion, as they went, that it was against the law to use any chariot or other sort of conveyance to go to the place of worship, the King himself being obliged to dispense with his sumptuous car on such occasions, and to walk thither as unostentatiously as any one of his poorest subjects.

“An excellent rule!” ... observed Theos reflectively,—­“For the pomp and glitter of an earthly potentate’s display assorts ill with the homage he intends to offer to the Immortals,—­and Kings are no more than commoners in the sight of an all-supreme Divinity.”

“True, if there were an all-supreme Divinity!” rejoined Sah-luma dryly,—­“But in the present state of well-founded doubt regarding the existence of any such omnipotent personage, thinkest thou there is a monarch living, who is sincerely willing to admit the possibility of any power superior to himself?  Not Zephoranim, believe me! ... his enforced humility on all occasions of public religious observance serves him merely as a new channel wherein to proclaim his pride.  Certes, in obedience to the Priests, or rather let us say in obedience to the High Priestess, he paces the common foot-path in company with the common folk, uncrowned and simply clad,—­but what avails this affectation of