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If, on the other hand, such an absurd doctrine as that formulated in the fanatic madman Khosrul's 'Prophecy' could be imagined as actually admitted, and proclaimed to the nations, it would have very few followers, and the sincerity of those few might well be open to doubt.
It was a very singular thing too, that he should find himself strongly and personally affected by Khosrul's address to Sah-luma, yet such was the case, ... so much so, indeed, that he accepted all the Prophet's reproaches as though they applied solely TO HIS OWN PAST LIFE! He could not understand his emotion, ... nevertheless he kept on dreamily regretting that things WERE as Khosrul had said, ... that he had NOT fulfilled his vocation, and that he had neither been humble enough nor devout enough nor unselfish enough to deserve the high and imperial name of POET.
"See you not".. whispered Sah-luma to his companion, "how yon aged fool wears upon his breast the Symbol of his own Prophecy? 'Tis the maddest freak to thus display his death-warrant! Only a month ago the King issued a decree, warning all those whom it might concern, that any one of his born subjects presuming to carry the sign of Khosrul's newly invented Faith should surely die!
Ye milk-veined rascals! ... What abject terror makes ye thus quiver like aspen-leaves in a storm? ... this darkness is but a conjurer's trick to scare women, and Khosrul's followers can so play with the strings of electricity that ye are duped into accepting the witch-glamour as Heaven's own cloud-flame! By the gods!
What did it all mean? ... Had his life gone back in some strange way? ... or had he merely DREAMED of a former existence different to this one? He remembered now what Sah-luma had told him respecting Khosrul's "new" theory of a future religion, a theory that to him had seemed so old, so old! so utterly exhausted and worn threadbare!
Khosrul's vibrating accent struck sharply across that muffled murmur. "The Poet and the People of Al-Kyris are further asunder than light and darkness!" he cried vehemently "For the Poet has been false to his high vocation, and the People trust in him no more!"
"Strange!" and Sah-luma looked thoughtful for an instant, then rousing himself, said lightly, "'Tis from some simple cause, no doubt yet 'twill create a silly panic in the city and all the fanatics for Khosrul's new creed will creep forth, shouting afresh their prognostications of death and doom.
Never was a greater opposition offered to Khosrul's gloomy prognostications, than that contained in the handsome Laureate's aspect at that moment, his supple, graceful figure alert with life, . . his glowing face flushed by the sun, and touched with that faintly amused look of serene scorn, . . his glorious eyes, brilliant as jewels under their drooping amorous lids, and the regal poise of his splendid shoulders and throat, as he lifted his head a little more haughtily than usual, and glanced indifferently down from his foothold on the edge of the fountain at the upturned, questioning faces of the throng, ... all even to the careless balance and ease of his attitude, betokened his perfect condition of health, and the entire satisfaction he had in the consciousness of his own strength and beauty.
As it is, I warn thee! ... dare not to make public mention of the Cross, the accursed Emblem of the dead Khosrul's idolatry, ... guard thy tongue heedfully! and thou, Sah-luma if thou dost bring this rashling with thee to the Temple, thou must take upon thyself all measures for his safety.
He had evidently been uncomfortably impressed by Khosrul's words, and the restless anxiety reflected in his face communicated itself by a sort of electric thrill to Theos, whose heart began to beat heavily with a sense of vague alarm.
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