Theos, half deafened by the horrible uproar, as well as roused to an abnormal pitch of restless excitement, looked round to see how Sah-luma comported himself.  He was sitting quite still, in a perfectly composed attitude,—­a faint, derisive smile played on his lips, . . his profile, as it just then appeared, had the firmness and the pure soft outline of a delicately finished cameo, . . his splendid eyes now darkened, now lightened with passion, as he gazed at Lysia, who, all alone in the centre of the Shrine, held her ebony staff as perpendicularly erect as though it were a tree rooted fathoms deep in earth, keeping herself too as motionless as a figure of frozen snow.

And the King? ... what of him? ...  Glancing at that bronze-like brooding countenance, Theos was startled and at the same time half fascinated by its expression.  Such a mixture of tigerish tenderness, servile idolatry, intemperate desire, and craven fear he had never seen delineated on the face of any human being.  In the black thirsty eyes there was a look that spoke volumes,—­a look that betrayed what the heart concealed,—­and reading that featured emblazonment of hidden guilt, Theos knew beyond all doubt that the rumors concerning the High Priestess and the King were true, . . that the dead Khosrul had spoken rightly, . . that Zephoranim loved Lysia! ...  Love? ... it seemed too tame a word for the pent-up fury of passion that visibly and violently consumed the man!  What would be the result? ...

“When the High Priestess Is the King’s mistress Then fall Al-Kyris!”

These foolish doggerel lines! ... why did they suggest themselves? ... they meant nothing.  The question did not concern Al-Kyris at all,—­let the city stand or fall as it list, who cared, so long as Sah-luma escaped injury!  Such, at least, was the tenor of Theos’s thoughts, as he rapidly began to calculate certain contingencies that now seemed likely to occur.  If, for instance, the King were made aware of Sah-luma’s intrigue with Lysia, would not his rage and jealousy exceed all bounds? ... and if, on the other hand, Sah-luma were convinced of the King’s passion for the same fatally fair traitress, would not his wrath and injured self-love overbear all loyalty and prudence?

And between the two powerful rivals who thus by stealth enjoyed her capricious favors, what would Lysia’s own decision be?—­Like a loud hissing in his ears, he heard again the murderous command,—­a command which was half a menace:  “Kill Sah-luma!”

Faint shudders as of icy cold ran through him,—­he nerved himself to meet some deadly evil, though he could not guess what that evil might be,—­he was willing to throw away all the past that haunted him, and cut off all hope of a future, provided he could only baffle the snares of the pitiless beauty to whom the torture of men was an evident joy, and rescue his beloved and gifted friend from her perilous attraction!  Making a strong effort to master the