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Updated: June 8, 2025
And suddenly releasing his grasp he hurled Sah-luma away as he might have hurled aside a toy figure, and a peal of reckless musical laughter echoed mockingly through the vaulted shrine. It was Lysia's laughter! ... and Theos's blood grew cold as he heard its cruel, silvery ring ... even so had she laughed when Nir-jalis died!
He smiled condescendingly as he met Theos's half-surprised, half-inquiring look, and saluted him with a gravely pompous air, which however, was not without a saving touch of that indescribable, easy grace which seemed to distinguish the manners of all the inhabitants of Al-Kyris.
Thou shalt hear a most choice legend of love an thou wilt listen " here he laid his hand affectionately on Theos's shoulder "a legend set about, methinks, with wondrous jewels of poetic splendor! ... 'tis a rare privilege I offer thee, my friend, for as a rule Zabastes is my only auditor, but I would swear thou art no plagiarist, and wouldst not dishonor thine own intelligence so far as to filch pearls of fancy from another minstrel!
Always, by some unlooked-for mischance, I am compelled to avow what most I desire to conceal! Can you not understand, sir," and he laid his hand persuasively on Theos's arm, "that a Theory may be one thing and one's own private opinion another? My Theory is my profession, I live by it!
A curious stifling sensation began to oppress Theos's heart as he listened to those bells, . . they reminded him of such strange things, ... things to which he could not give a name, things foolish, yet sweet, . . odd suggestions of fair women who were wont to pray for those they loved, and who believed, . . alas, the pity of it! that their prayers would be heard ... and granted!
A pang bitter as death shot through Theos's heart, . . had the monarch suddenly pierced him with his great sword he could scarcely have endured more anguish!
'twas a jest, my friend!" and entirely recovering from his depression, he clapped his hand heartily on Theos's shoulder "'Twas all a jest! and she the fair inquisitor will herself prove it so ere long, and make merry with our ill-omened fears!
One of these, "Death of the Sculptor, Nir-jalis," seemed to burn into Theos's brain like letters of fire, how was it, he wondered, that the body of that unfortunate victim had been found on the shore of the river, when he himself had seen it loaded with iron weights, and cast into the lake that formed part of Lysia's fatal garden?
If," and he caught Theos's hand in his own warm palm and pressed it, while his voice sank to a soft and infinitely caressing sweetness, "if it is good to climb the dizzy heights of joy and drowse in the deep sunshine of amorous eyes, . . to slip away on elfin wings into the limitless freedom of Love's summerland, ... to rifle rich kisses from warm lips even as rosebuds are rifled from the parent rose, and to forget! ... to forget all bitter things that are best forgotten "
Noting the grand poise of his figure, and the statuesque grace of his attitude, a strange, hazy, far-off memory began to urge itself on Theos's mind, a memory that with every second grew more painfully distinct, ... HE HAD SEEN ZEPHORANIM BEFORE! Where, he could not tell, but he was as positive of it as that he himself lived! ... and this inward conviction was accompanied by a certain undefinable dread, a vague terror and foreboding, though he knew no actual cause for fear.
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