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It was very odd! ... his memory was like a wonderful art-gallery in which some pictures were fresh of tint, while others were dim and faded, . . but this special "tableau" in the Square of Al-Kyris was very distinctly painted in brilliant and vivid colors on the sombre background of his past recollections, and he found the circumstance so remarkable that he was on the point of saying something to Sah- luma about it, when the sun came out again in full splendor, and Zephoranim's spirited steeds started forward at a canter.
The doors were flung open, the Herald-in-Waiting entered in hot haste and excitement, and prostrating himself before the throne exclaimed: "O great King, may thy name live forever! Khosrul is taken!" Zephoranim's black brows drew together in a dark scowl and he set his lips hard. "So!
Since then, no so-called "spiritual" demonstrations had taken place till now, when on this very night Zephoranim's Presence-Chamber had been suddenly enveloped in the thunderous and terrifying darkness which had so successfully covered Khosrul's escape.
And Zephoranim's haughty spirit too had fled, fled, stained with guilt and most unroyal dishonor, all for the sake of one woman's fairness the fairness of body only the brilliant mask of flesh that too often hides the hideousness of a devil's nature!
At that moment the beautiful Sah-luma turned toward him smiling, as one who looked for more sympathetic approbation than that offered by a mixed throng, and meeting that happy self- conscious, bland, half-inquiring gaze, he strove his best to return the smile. Just then Zephoranim's fiery glance swept over him with a curious expression of wonder and commiseration.
Too late! too late! ... Zephoranim's dagger glittered in the air, and rapidly descended ... One gasping cry! ... and Sah-luma lay prone, beautiful as a slain Adonis, . . the rich red blood pouring from his heart, and a faint, stern smile frozen on the proud lips whose dulcet singing-speech was now struck dumb forever!
He began now to understand much that had before seemed doubtful and mysterious, no wonder, he thought, that Zephoranim's fury against the audacious Khosrul had been so excessive!
Zephoranim's glance rested upon him with cold and supercilious indifference, seated haughtily upright in his throne, with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he showed no sign of anger against, or interest in, his prisoner, save that, to the observant eye of Theos, the veins in his forehead seemed to become suddenly knotted and swollen, while the jewels on his bare chest heaved restlessly up and down with the unquiet panting of his quickened breath.
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