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Updated: May 20, 2025
When they heard these words, some amongst them began to be afraid, and blessed themselves with both hands, thinking indeed that he had been a devil disguised, insomuch that one of them, named Good John, captain of the trained bands of the country bumpkins, took his psalter out of his codpiece, and cried out aloud, Hagios ho theos.
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.
He laughed, then added "Nevertheless I tell thee once again 'twas not the King, . . His Majesty hath too much at stake, to risk so dangerous a pleasantry!" Theos heard, but he was dissatisfied and ill at ease, . . Sah-luma's careless contentment increased his own disquietude.
"For the most illustrious Chief of Poets, Sah-luma" ... said the little lad, keeping his head bent humbly as he spoke ... "It was brought lately by one masked, who rode in haste and fear, and, ere he could be questioned, swift departed." Sah-luma took the missive carelessly, scarcely glancing at it, and crossed the hall toward his own apartment, Theos following him.
Theos Alwyn, the poet, whom some of our contemporaries erroneously reported as dead, has arrived in London from his tour in the East. He is for the present a guest of the Honorable Francis Villiers."
Theos looked at him, with a feeling of unutterable yearning affection, and regret, but said nothing, . . and together they ascended the steps of the stately marble terrace and paced slowly across it, keeping as near to each other as shadow to substance, and thus reentered the palace, where the sound of a distant harp alone penetrated the perfumed stillness.
That smile, so cold, so cruel, so unpitying, made Theos for a moment hate him, . . of what use, he thought, was it, to be a writer of soft and delicate verse, if the inner nature of the man was merciless, selfish, and utterly regardless of the woes of others? ... The rest of the guests were profoundly indifferent, they kept silence, it is true, ... but they went on drinking their wine with perfectly unabated enjoyment.. they were evidently accustomed to such scenes.
One reviewer took an infinite deal of pains to prove 'that if the genius of Theos Alwyn had only been spared to England, he must have infallibly been elected Poet Laureate as soon as the post became vacant, and that too, without a single dissentient voice, save such as were raised in envy or malice.
Presently some one called me by name 'THEOS! ... THEOS! I strove to answer, but I had no words wherewith to match that silver-toned, far-reaching utterance; and once again the rich vibrating notes pealed through the vaporous fire-tinted air 'THEOS, MY BELOVED! HIGHER! ... HIGHER! ... All my being thrilled and quivered to that call.
Provision dealers and sensational story writers may find that it serves their purpose to be interviewed, if only as a means of gaining extra advertisement, but a truly great and conscientious author like Theos Alwyn is quite above all that sort of thing." The lady raised her pale eyebrows with an expression of interrogative scorn. "ABOVE all that sort of thing!" she echoed incredulously "Dear me!
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