Sah-luma looked up, like a surprised child.

"Done? ... Nay, what should I do? ... I have let her love me!"

O sublime permission! ... he had "LET HER LOVE" him! ... He had condescendingly allowed her, as it were, to waste all the treasures of her soul upon him! Theos stared at him in vague amazement,--while he, apparently tired of his own reflections, continued with some impatience:

"What more could she desire? ... I never barred her from my presence, ... nor checked the fervor of her greetings! I wore the flowers she chose,--I listened to the songs she sang, and when she looked more fair than ordinary I stinted not the warmth of my caresses. She was too meek and loving for my fancy ... no will save mine--no happiness save in my company,--no thought beyond my pleasure--one wearies of such a fond excess of sweetness! Nevertheless her sole delight was still to serve me,--could I debar her from that joy because I saw therein some danger for her peace? Slave as she was, I made her free--and lo! how capriciously she plays with her late-given liberty! 'Tis always the way with women,--no man shall ever learn how best to please them! She knew I loved her not as lovers love,--she knew my heart was elsewhere fixed and fated ... and if, notwithstanding this knowledge, she still chose to love me, then a.s.suredly her grief is of her own creating! Methinks 'tis I who am most injured in this matter! ... all the day long I have tormented myself concerning the silly maiden's absence, while she, seized by some crazed idea of new adventure, has gone forth heedlessly, scarce knowing whither. Her letter is the exalted utterance of an overwrought, excited brain,--she has in all likelihood caught the contagion of superst.i.tious alarm that seems just now to possess the whole city, and she knows naught of what she writes or what she means to do. To leave me forever, as she says, is out of her power,--for I will demand her back at the hands of Lysia or the King,--and no demand of mine has ever been refused. Moreover, with Lysia's aid, her hiding-place is soon and easily discovered!"

"How?" asked Theos mechanically, still surveying the beautiful, calm features of the charming egotist whose nature seemed such a curious mixture of loftiness and littleness.. "She may have left the city!"

"No one can leave the city without express permission,"--rejoined Sah-luma tranquilly--"Besides, . . didst thou not see the Black Disc last night in Lysia's palace?"

Theos nodded a.s.sent. He at once remembered the strange revolving thing that had covered itself with brilliant letters at the approach of the High Priestess, and he waited somewhat eagerly to hear the meaning of so singular an object explained.

"The Priest of the Temple of Nagaya,"--went on Sah-luma--"are the greatest scientists in the world, with the exception of the lately formed Circle of Mystics, who it must be confessed exceed them in certain new lines of discovery. But setting aside the Mystic School, which it behoves us not to speak of, seeing it is condemned by law,--there are no men living more subtly wise in matters pertaining to aerial force and light-phenomena, than the Servants of the Secret Doctrine of the Temple. All seeming-marvellous things are to them mere child's play,--and the miracles by which they keep the mult.i.tude in awe are not by any means vulgar, but most exquisitely scientific. As, for instance, at the great New Year Festival, called by us 'The Sailing-Forth of the Ship of the Sun,'--which takes place at the commencement of the Spring solstice, a fire is kindled on the summit of the highest tower, and a Ship of gold rises from the centre of the flames, carrying the body of a slain virgin eastwards, . . 'tis wondrously performed! ... and I, like others, have gaped upon the splendor of the scene half-credulous, and wholly dazzled! For the Ship doth rise aloft with excellent stateliness, plowing the air with as much celerity as sailing-vessels plow the seas; departing straightway from the watching eyes of thousands of spectators, it plunges deep, or so it seems, into the very heart of the rising Sun, which doth apparently absorb it in devouring flames of glory, for never again doth it return to earth, . . and none can solve the mystery of its vanishing! 'Tis a graceful piece of jugglery and perfectly accomplished, . . while as for Oracles [Footnote: The Phonograph was known and used for the utterance of Oracles by one Savan the Asmounian, a Priest-King of ancient Egypt.] that command and repeat their commands in every shade of tone, from mild to wrathful, there are only too many of these, . . moreover the secret of their manufacture is well known to all students of acoustic science. But concerning the Black Disc in Lysia's hall, it is a curiously elaborate piece of workmanship. It corresponds with an electric wheel in the Interior Chamber of the Temple, where all the priests and flamens meet and sum up the entire events of the day, both public and private, condensing the same into brief hieroglyphs. Setting their wheel in motion, they start a similar motion in the Disc, and the bright characters that flash upon it and disappear like quicksilver, are the reflection of the working electric wires which write what only Lysia is skilled to read. From sunset to midnight these messages keep coming without intermission,--and all the most carefully concealed affairs of Al-Kyris are discovered by the Temple Spies and conveyed to Lysia by this means. Whatever the news, it is repeated again and again on the Disc, till she, by rapidly turning it with a peculiar movement of her own, causes a small bell to ring in the Temple, which signifies to her informers that she has understood all their communications, and knows everything. Her inquisitorial system is searching and elaborate, . . there is no secret so carefully guarded that the Black Disc will not in time reveal!"

Theos listened wonderingly and with a sense of repugnance and fear, ...

he felt as though the beautiful Priestess, with her glittering robes and the dreadful jewelled Eye upon her breast, were just then entering the room stealthily and rustling hither and thither like a snake beneath covering leaves. She was an ever-present Temptation,--a bewildering snare and distracting evil,--was it not possible to shake her trail off the life of his friend-and also to pluck from out his own heart the poison-sting of her fatal, terrible fascination? A red mist swam before his eyes--his lips were dry and feverish,--his voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and faint in his own ears when he forced himself to speak again.

"So thou dost think that, wheresoever Niphrata hath strayed, Lysia can find her?" he said.

"a.s.suredly!" returned Sah-luma with easy complacency--"I would swear that, even at this very moment, Lysia could restore her to my arms in safety."

"Then why" ... suggested Theos anxiously--"why not go forth and seek her now?"

"Nay, there is time!" ... and Sah-luma half closed his languid lids and stretched himself lazily. "I would not have the child imagine I vexed myself too greatly for her unkind departure, . . she must have s.p.a.ce wherein to weep and repent her of her folly. She is the strangest maiden!" ... and he brushed his lips lightly against the golden curl he held,--She loves me, . . and yet repulses all attempted pa.s.sion,--I remember" ... here his face grew more serious--"I remember one night in the beginning of summer,--the moon was round and high in heaven,--we were alone together in this room,--the lamps burned low,--and she..

Niphrata, . . sang to me. Her voice was full, and withal tremulous,--her form, bent to her ebony harp was soft and yielding as an iris stem, her eyes turned upon mine seemed wonderingly to question me as to the worth of love! ... or so I fancied. The worth of love! ...

I would have taught it to her then in the rapture of an hour!--but seized with sudden foolish fear she fled, leaving me dissatisfied, indifferent, and weary! No matter! when she returns again her mood will alter, . . and though I love her not as she would fain be loved, I shall find means to make her happy."

"Nay, but she speaks of dying".. said Theos quickly ... "Wilt thou constrain her back from death?"

"My friend, all women speak of dying when they are love-wearied" ...

replied Sah-luma with a slight smile ... "Niphrata will not die, ...

she is too young and fond of life, ... the world is as a garden wherein she has but lately entered, all ignorant of the pleasures that await her there. 'Tis an odd notion that she has of danger threatening me,--thou also, good Theos, art become full of omens,--and yet, . .

there is naught of visible ill to trouble the fairness of the day."

He stepped out as he spoke on the terrace and looked up at the intense calm of the lovely sky. Theos followed him, and stood leaning on the bal.u.s.trade among the clambering vines, watching him with earnest, half-regretful half-adoring eyes. He, meanwhile, gathered a scarcely opened white rosebud and loosening the tress of Niphrata's hair from his fingers, allowed it to hang to its full rippling length,--then laying the flower against it, he appeared dreamily to admire the contrast between the snowy blossom and shining curl.

"Many strange men there are in the world," he said softly--"lovers and fools who set priceless store on a rose and a lock of woman's hair! I have heard of some who, dying, have held such trifles as chiefest of all their worldly goods, and have implored that whereas their gold and household stuff can be bestowed freely on him who first comes to claim it, the faded flower and senseless tress may be laid on their hearts to comfort them in the cold and dreamless sleep from which they shall not wake again!" He sighed and his eyes darkened into deep and musing tenderness. "Poets there have been too and are, who would string many a canticle on this soft severed lock and gathered blossom,--and many a quaint conceit could I myself contrive concerning it, did I not feel more p.r.o.ne to tears to-day than minstrelsy. Canst thou believe it, Theos"--and he forced a laugh, though his lashes were wet, . . "I, the joyous Sah-luma, am for once most truly sad! ... this tress of hair doth seem to catch my spirit in a chain that binds me fast and draws me onward.. onward.. to some mournful end I may not dare to see!"

And as he spoke he mechanically wound the golden curl round and about the stem of the rosebud in the fashion of a ribbon, and placed the two entwined together in his breast. Theos looked at him wistfully, but was silent, . . he himself was too full of dull and melancholy misgivings to be otherwise than sad also. Instinctively he drew closer to his friend's side, and thus they remained for some minutes, exchanging no words, and gazing dreamily out on the luxurious foliage of the trees and the wealth of bright blossoms that adorned the landscape before them.

"Thou art confident Niphrata will return?" questioned Theos presently in a low tone.

"She will return,".. rejoined Sah-luma quietly--"because she will do anything for love of me."

"For love's sake she may die!" said Theos. Sah-luma smiled.

"Not so, my friend! ... for love's sake she will live!"

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE PRIEST ZEL.

As he uttered the last word the sound of an approaching light step disturbed the silence. It was one of the young girls of the household, . . a dark, haughty-looking beauty whom Theos remembered to have seen in the palace-hall when he first arrived, lying indolently among cushions, and playing with a tame bird which flew to and fro at her beckoning. She advanced now with an almost imperial stateliness,--her salute to Sah-luma was grateful, yet scarcely submissive,--while he, turning eagerly toward her, seemed gladdened and relieved at her appearance, his face a.s.suming a gratified expression like that of a child who, having broken one toy, is easily consoled with another.

"Welcome, Irenya!" he exclaimed gayly--"Thou art the very bitter-sweetness I desire. Thy naughty pout and coldly mutinous eyes are pleasing contrasts to the overlanguid heat and brightness of the day! What news hast thou, my sweet? ... Is there fresh havoc in the city? ... more deaths? ... more troublous tidings? ... nay, then hold thy peace, for thou art not a fit messenger of woe--thou'rt much too fair!"

Irenya's red lips curled disdainfully, . . the "naughty pout" was plainly visible.

"My lord is pleased to flatter his slave!" she said with a touch of scorn in her musical accents, . . "Certes, of ill news there is more than enough,--and evil rumors have never been lacking these many months, as my lord would have known, had he deigned to listen to the common talk of those who are not poets but merely sad and suffering men. Nevertheless, though I may think, I speak not at all of matters such as these,--and for my present errand 'tis but to say that a Priest of the Inner Temple waits without, desirous of instant speech with the most ill.u.s.trious Sah-luma."

"A Priest of the Inner Temple!" echoed the Laureate wonderingly, . .

"By my faith, a most unwelcome visitor! ... What business can he have with me?"

"Nay, that I know not"--responded Irenya calmly--"He hath come hither, so he bade me say, by command of The Absolute Authority."

Sah-luma's face flushed and he looked annoyed. Then taking Theos by the arm he turned away from the terrace, and re-entered his apartment, where he flung himself full length on his couch, pillowing his handsome head against a fold of glossy leopard skin which formed a most becoming background for the soft, dark oval beauty of his features.

"Sit thee down, my friend!" he said glancing smilingly at Theos, and signing to him to take possession of a luxurious lounge-chair near him.. "If we must needs receive this sanctified professor of many hypocrisies, we will do it with suitable indifference and ease. Wilt thou stay here with us, Irenya," he added, stretching out one arm and catching the maiden round the waist in spite of her attempted resistance.. "Or art thou in a froward mood, and wilt thou go thine own proud way without so much as a consoling kiss from Sah-luma?"

Irenya looked full at him, a repressed anger blazing in her large black eyes.

"Let my lord save his kisses for those who value them!" she said contemptuously, "'Twere pity he should waste them upon me, to whom they are unmeaning and therefore all unwelcome!"

He laughed heartily, and instantly loosened her from his embrace.

"Off, off with thee, sweet virtue! ... fairest prude!" he cried, still laughing.. "Live out thy life an thou wilt, empty of love or pa.s.sion--count the years as they slip by, leaving thee each day less lovely and less fit for pleasure, ... grow old,--and on the brink of death, look back, poor child, and see the glory thou hast missed and left behind thee! ... the light of love and youth that, once departed, can dawn again no more!"

And lifting himself slightly from his cushions he kissed his hand playfully to the girl, who, as though suddenly overcome by a sort of vague regret, still lingered, gazing at him, while a faint color crept through her cheeks like the deepening hue on the leaves of an opening rose. Sah-luma saw her hesitation, and his face grew yet more radiant with malicious mirth.

"Hence.. hence, Irenya!" he exclaimed--"Escape temptation quickly while thou mayest! Support thy virgin pride in peace! ... thou shalt never say again Sah-luma's kisses are unwelcome! The Poet's touch shall never wrong or sanctify thy name!--thou art safe from me as pillared icicles in everlasting snow! Dear little one, be happy without love if that be possible! ... nevertheless take heed thou do not weakly clamor in the after-years for once rejected joy!--Now bid yon waiting Priest attend me,--tell him I can but spare a few brief moments audience."

Irenya's head drooped,--Theos saw tears in her eyes,--but she managed to restrain them, and with something of a defiant air she made her formal obeisance and withdrew. She did not return again, but a page appeared instead, ushering in with ceremonious civility a tall personage, clad in flowing white robes and m.u.f.fled up to the eyes in a mantle of silver tissue,--a majestic, mysterious, solemn-looking individual, who, pausing on the threshold of the apartment, described a circle in the air with a small staff he carried, and said in monotonous accents:

"By the going-in and pa.s.sing-out of the Sun through the Gates of the East and the Gates of the West,--by the Vulture of Gold and White Lotus and the countless virtues of Nagaya, may peace dwell in this house forever!"

"Agreed to with all my heart!" responded Sah-luma, carelessly looking up from his couch but making no attempt to rise, . . "Peace is an excellent thing, most holy father!"

"Excellent!" returned the Priest slowly advancing and undoing his mantle so that his face became fully visible,--"So truly excellent indeed, that at times it is needful to make war in order to insure it."

He sat down, as he spoke, in a chair which was placed for him at Sah-luma's bidding by the page who had ushered him in, and he maintained a grave silence till that youthful servitor had departed.

Theos meanwhile studied his countenance with some curiosity,--it was so strangely impa.s.sive, yet at the same time so full of distinctly marked intellectual power. The features were handsome but also singularly repulsive,--they were rendered in a certain degree dignified by a full, dark beard which, however, failed entirely to conceal the receding chin, and compressed, cruel mouth,--the eyes were keen and crafty and very clear,--the forehead was high and intelligent, and deeply furrowed with lines that seemed to be the result of much pondering over close and cunning calculation, rather than the marks of profound, unselfish, and enn.o.bling thought. The page having left the room, Sah-luma began the conversation:

"To what unexpected cause, most righteous sir, am I indebted for the honor of this present visit? Methinks I recognize the countenance of the famous Zel, the High-Priest of the Sacrificial Altar--if so, 'tis marvellous so great a man should venture forth alone and unattended, to the house of one who loves not priestly company, and who hath at best for all professors of religion a somewhat indifferent welcome!"