Seized with mortal dread, Theos gazed helplessly at his reckless, beautiful poet friend, who with head erect and visage white as a waning moon, haughtily confronted his Sovereign and audaciously asserted his right to be heard, even in the Holy place of worship!  The King was the first to break the breathless stillness:  his words came harshly from his throat, . . and the great muscles in his neck seemed to swell visibly with his hardly controlled anger.

“Peace! ...  Thou art suddenly distraught, Sah-luma! ...” he said, in half-smothered, fierce accents—­“How darest thou uplift thy clamorous tongue thus wantonly before Nagaya, and interrupt the progress of his Sacred Ritual? ... check thy mad speech! ... if ever yonder maid were thine, ’tis certain she is thine no longer; ... she hath offered herself, a voluntary sacrifice, and the gods are pleased to claim what thou perchance hast failed to value!”

For all answer, Sah-luma flung himself desperately at the monarch’s feet.  “Zephoranim!” he cried again ...  “I tell thee she is mine! ... mine, as truly mine as Love can make her!  Oh, she is chaster than lily-buds in her sweet body! ... but in her spirit she is wedded—­wedded to me, Sah-luma, whom thou, O King, hast ever delighted to honor!  And now must I kneel to thee in vain?—­ thou whose victories I have sung, whose praises I have chanted in burning words that shall carry thy name forever with triumph, down to unborn generations? ...  Wilt thou become inglorious? ... a warrior stricken strengthless by the mummeries of priestcraft,—­ the juggleries of a perishing creed?  Thou art the ruler of Al-Kyris,—­thou and thou only!  Restore to me this innocent virgin-life that has scarcely yet begun to bloom! ... speak but the word and she is saved! ... and her timely rescue shall add lustre to the record of thy noblest deeds!”

His matchless voice, full of passionate pulsations, exercised for a moment a resistless influence and magnetic charm.  The King’s lowering brows relaxed,—­and a gleam of pity passed like light across his countenance.  Instinctively he extended his hand to raise Sah-luma from his humble attitude, as though, even in his wrath, he were conscious of the immense intellectual superiority of a great Poet to ever so great a King; and a thrill of involuntary compassion seemed at the same time to run sympathetically through the vast congregation.  Theos drew a quick breath of relief, and glanced at Niphrata, ... how cold and unconcerned was her demeanor! ...  Did she not hear Sah-luma’s pleading in her behalf? ...  No matter!—­she would be saved, he thought, and all would yet be well!

And truly it now appeared as if mercy, and not cruelty, were to be the order of the hour, . . for just then the Priest Zel, after having exchanged a few inaudible words with Lysia, advanced again to the front of the Shrine and spoke in distinct tones of forced gentleness and bland forbearance: