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Updated: May 14, 2025
He made no answer to Sah-luma's remark, but fixed his gaze wistfully on the tall, melancholy Shape that like a black shadow darkened the whiteness of the Obelisk, and his sense of hearing became acute almost to painfulness when once more Khosrul's deep vibrating tones peeled solemnly through the heavy air.
One young man whom the others addressed as Ormaz, a haughty, handsome fellow enough, though with rather a sneering mouth just visible under his black mustache, was talking somewhat excitedly on the subject of Khosrul's cunningly devised flight, . . for it seemed to be universally understood that the venerable Prophet was one of the Circle of Mystics, persons whose knowledge of science, especially in matters connected with electricity, enabled them to perform astonishing juggleries, that were frequently accepted by the uninitiated vulgar as almost divine miracles.
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.
Trembling violently, he gazed beseechingly at Sah-luma, who held his arm in a firm and friendly grasp, and who, apparently quickly perceiving that he was distressed and embarrassed, undertook himself to furnish forth what he evidently considered a fitting response to Khosrul's adjuration.
For seeing him thus alive and well in direct opposition to Khosrul's ominous prediction, even as Sah-luma also stood unharmed in spite of his having been apostrophized as a "dying" Poet, the mob, always fickle and always dazzled by outward show, suddenly set up a deafening roar of cheering.
Didst ever hear such a hideous clamor of contradictory tongues! ... all striving to explain what defies explanation, namely, Khosrul's flight, for which, after all, no one is to blame so much as Zephoranim himself, but 'tis the privilege of monarchs to shift their own mistakes and follies on to the shoulders of their subjects! Come!
Only that Khosrul's rugged features had borne the impress of patient, long-endured, bitter suffering, and the personage who now confronted him had a face so calm and seriously impassive that it might have been taken for that of one newly dead, from whose lineaments all traces of earthly passion had forever been smoothed away. "Art thou condemned to die, or dost thou seek an escape from death?"
Then straightway he became indignant on his friend's behalf, why should Sah-luma be blamed? ... Sah-luma was a glorious poet! a master-singer of singers! ... his fume must and should endure forever! ... Thus thinking, he regained his composure by degrees, and strove to assume the same air of easy indifference as that exhibited by his companion, when again Khosrul's declamatory tones thundered forth with an absoluteness of emphasis that was both startling and convincing: "Hear me, Sah-luma, Chief Minstrel of Al-Kyris! hear me, thou who hast willfully wasted the golden moments of never-returning time!
"Thou foolish, yet dear comrade!" he murmured.. "What moves thee to blurt forth such strange and unwarrantable sayings? ... Why wouldst thou pray to be a servant of the Cross? ... or why, at any rate, if thou hast taken a fancy for the dead Khosrul's new doctrine, wert thou so rash as to proclaim thy sentiment to yon unprincipled, bloodthirsty Zel, who would not scruple to poison the King himself, if his Majesty gave sufficient cause of offence!
Then drawing his gigantic sword he lifted it on high, . . the blight blade glittered in air...an audible gasp of terror broke from the throng of spectators, . . another second and Khosrul's life would have paid the forfeit for his temerity...when crash! ... a sudden and tremendous clap of thunder shook the hall, and every lamp was extinguished!
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