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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Pardon me..." suddenly interrupted Theos, "I am a stranger, and in a great measure ignorant of this city's customs, . . but I confess I am amazed to hear a Priest uphold so specious an argument!
The King seated himself on a cushioned chair directly in front of the Silver Veil, . . Sah-luma took a place at his right hand, giving Theos a low bench close beside him, while the various distinguished personages who had attended Zephoranim disposed themselves indifferently wherever they could find standing-room, only keeping as near to their monarch as they were able to do in the extreme pressure of so vast a congregation.
I must needs have thy voice in all its full lusciousness of tune to warble for his pleasure those heart-entangling ditties of mine which thou hast learned to render with such matchless tenderness! ... Thanks, Gisenya," ... this as another maiden advanced, and, gently removing the myrtle-wreath he wore, placed one just freshly woven on his clustering curls, . . then, turning to Theos, he inquired "Wilt thou also wear a minstrel-garland, my friend?
Theos, looking, held his breath in wonder and fear, while Sah-luma with a groan turned himself resolutely away, and, pressing his forehead against the great column where he stood, hid his eyes in his clasped hands. The High Priestess continued: "Come hither, O Maiden of chaste and patient life!
Theos stared upon him amazed and bewildered, . . how came he there? Had he heard any of the conversation that had just passed between Lysia and himself? ... Apparently not, . . he seemed bound as by chains in a stirless lethargy.
The discomfited Zabastes retired, grumbling to himself in an undertone, and the Laureate, whose dreamy eyes had till now rested on Theos, his self constituted advocate, with an appreciative and almost tender regard, once more took up his harp, and striking a few rich, soft chords was about to sing again, when a great noise as of clanking armor was heard outside, mingled with a steadily increasing, sonorous hum of many voices and the increased tramp, tramp of marching feet.
"Keep thy share!" he said, with an amused flash of his glorious eyes. "Such offerings are my daily lot! ... I can spare thee one handful from the overflowing harvest of my song!" It was impossible to be offended with such charming self- complacency, the naive conceit of the man was as harmless as the delight of a fair girl who has made her first conquest, and Theos smiling, kept the flowers.
Half maddened by the shrieks and dying groans that resounded everywhere about him, and yet all the time feeling as though he were some spectator set apart, and condemned to watch the progress of a ghastly phantasmagoria in Hell, Theos was just revolving in his mind whether it would or would not be possible to make a determined climb for escape through one of the tall painted windows, some of which were not yet reached by the fire, when, with a sudden passionate exclamation, Sah-luma broke from his hold and rushed to the Sanctuary.
He was silent for a little space then he resumed in a more ordinary tone: "The wretched Nir-jalis, whose fate thou dost so persistently deplore, deserved his end for his presumption, ... didst thou not hear his insolent insinuation concerning the King?" "I heard it yes!" replied Theos "And I saw no harm in the manner of his utterance." "No harm!" exclaimed Sah-luma excitedly "No harm!
Thinking this, his accents were touched with a certain compassion when after a pause he said softly: "Poor boy! poor, puzzled, tired brain that would fain judge Infinity by merely finite perception! You were a far truer poet, Theos Alwyn, when as a world-foolish, heaven-inspired lad you believed in God, and therefore, in godlike gladness, found all things good!" Alwyn looked up his lips quivered.
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