Meanwhile Theos, in the company of his new friend, began to express his thanks for the timely rescue he had received,—­but Sah-luma waived all such acknowledgments aside.

“Nay, I have only served thee as a crowned Laureate should ever serve a lesser minstrel,”—­he said, with that indescribably delicious air of self-flattery which was so whimsical, and yet so winning,—­“And I tell thee in all good faith that, for a newly arrived visitor in Al-Kyris, thy first venture was a reckless one!  To omit to kneel in the presence of the High Priestess during her Benediction, was a violation of our customs and ceremonies dangerous to life and limb!  A religiously excited mob is merciless,—­and if I had not chanced upon the scene of action, . .”

“I should have been no longer the man I am!” smiled Theos, looking down on his companion’s light, lithe, elegant form as it moved gracefully by his side—­“But that I failed in homage to the High Priestess was a most unintentional lack of wit on my part,—­for if that was the High Priestess,—­that dazzling wonder of beauty who lately passed in a glittering ship, on her triumphant way down the river, like a priceless pearl in a cup of gold...”

“Aye, aye!” and Sah-luma’s dark brows contracted in a slight frown—­“Not so many fine words, I pray thee!  Thou couldst not well mistake her,—­there is only one Lysia!”

“Lysia!” murmured Theos dreamily, and the musical name slid off his lips with a soft, sibilant sound,—­“Lysia!  And I forgot to kneel to that enchanting, that adorable being!  Oh unwise, benighted fool!—­where were my thoughts?  Next time I see her I will atone! .—­no matter what creed she represents,—­I will kiss the dust at her feet, and so make reparation for my sin!”

Sah-luma glanced at him with a somewhat dubious expression.

“What!—­art thou already persuaded?” he queried lightly, “and wilt thou also be one of us?  Well, thou wilt need to kiss the dust in very truth, if thou servest Lysia, . . no half-measures will suit where she, the Untouched and Immaculate, is concerned,”—­and here there was a faint inflection of mingled mockery and sadness in his tone—­“To love her is, for many men, an absolute necessity,—­but the Virgin Priestess of the Sun and the Serpent receives love, as statues may receive it,—­moving all others to frenzy, she is herself unmoved!”

Theos listened, scarcely hearing.  He was studying every line in Sah-luma’s face and figure with fixed and wistful attention.  Almost unconsciously he pressed the arm he held, and Sah-luma looked up at him with a half-smile.

“I fancy we shall like each other!” he said—­“Thou art a western singing bird-of-passage, and I a nested nightingale amid the roses of the East,—­our ways of making melody are different,—­we shall not quarrel!”

“Quarrel!” echoed Theos amazedly—­“Nay! ...  I might quarrel with my nearest and dearest, but never with thee, Sah-luma!  For I know thee for a very prince of poets! ... and would as soon profane the sanctity of the Muse herself, as violate thy proffered friendship!”