the vast area was filled with crowds upon crowds of silent and expectant people.  It seemed as though not the smallest wedge could have been inserted between the shoulders of one man and another, yet where he stood with Sah-luma there was plenty of room.  The reason of this however was soon apparent,—­they were in the place reserved for the King and the immediate officers of the Royal Household,—­and scarcely had the sweet vibration of that clear trumpet-blast died away, when Zephoranim himself appeared, walking slowly and majestically in the midst of a select company of his nobles and courtiers.

He wore the simple white garb of an ordinary citizen of Al-Kyris, together with a silver belt and plain-sheathed dagger, . . not a jewel relieved the classic severity of his costume, and not even the merest fillet of gold in his rough dark hair denoted his royal rank.  But the pride of precedence spoke in his flashing eyes,—­the arrogance of authority in the self-conscious poise of his figure and haughtiness of his step,—­his brows were knitted in something of a frown, and his face looked pale and slightly careworn.  He spied out Sah-luma at once and smiled kindly,—­there was not a trace of coldness in his manner toward his favored minstrel, and Theos noted this with a curious sense of sudden consolation and encouragement.  “Why should I have feared Zephoranim?” he thought.  “Sah-luma has no greater friend, . . except myself!  The King would be the last person in the world to do him any injury!”

Just then a magnificent burst of triumphal music rolled through the Temple,—­the music of some mighty instrument, organ-like in sound, but several tones deeper than the grandest organ ever made, mingled with children’s voices singing.  The King seated himself on a cushioned chair directly in front of the Silver Veil, . .  Sah-luma took a place at his right hand, giving Theos a low bench close beside him, while the various distinguished personages who had attended Zephoranim disposed themselves indifferently wherever they could find standing-room, only keeping as near to their monarch as they were able to do in the extreme pressure of so vast a congregation.

For now every available inch of space was occupied,—­as far as eye could see there were rows upon rows of men and white-veiled women, . .  Theos imagined there must have been more then five thousand people present.  On went the huge pulsations of melody, surging through the incense-laden air like waves thudding incessantly on a rocky shore, and presently out of a side archway near the Sanctuary-steps came with slow and gliding noiselessness a band of priests, walking two by two, and carrying branches of palm.  These were all clad in purple and crowned with ivy-wreaths, —­they marched sedately, keeping their eyes lowered, while their lips moved constantly, as though they muttered inaudible incantations.  Waving their palm-boughs to and fro, they paced along past the King and down the centre aisle of the Temple,—­then turning, they came back again to the lowest step of the Shrine and there they all prostrated themselves, while the children who stood near the incense-burners flung fresh perfumes on the glowing embers and chanted the following recitative: