A shadow of pain darkened his handsome face as he spoke, . . and Theos, gazing full at him, became suddenly filled with pity and anxiety,--he passionately longed to assure him that there was in very truth a future higher and happier existence,--he, Theos, would vouch for the fact! But how? ... and why? ... What could he say? ... what could he prove? ... His throat ached,--his eyeballs burned, he was, as it were, forbidden to speak, notwithstanding the yearning desire he felt to impart to the soul of his new-found friend something of that indescribable sense of EVERLASTINGNESS which he himself was now conscious of, even as one set free of prison is conscious of liberty. Mute, and with a feeling as of hot, unshed tears welling up from his very heart, he turned over the volumes of Hyspiros almost mechanically,--they were formed of sheets of papyrus artistically bound in loose leather coverings and tied together with gold-colored ribbon. The Kyrisian language was, as has been before stated, perfectly familiar to him, though he could not tell how he had acquired the knowledge of it,--and he was able to see at a glance that Sah-luma had good cause to be enthusiastic in his praise of the author whose genius he so fervently admired. There was a ringing richness in the rush of the verse,--a wealth of simile combined with a simplicity and directness of utterance that charmed the ear while influencing the mind, and he was beginning to read in sotto-voce the opening lines of a spirited battle-challenge running thus: "I tell thee, O thou pride enthroned King That from these peaceful fields, these harvest lands, Strange crops shall spring, not sown by thee or thine! Arm'd millions, bristling weapons, helmed men Dreadfully plum'd and eager for the fray, Steel crested myrmidons, toss'd spears, wild steeds, Uplifted flags and pennons, horrid swords, Death gleaming eyes, stern hands to grasp and tear Life from beseeching life, till all the heavens Strike havoc to the terror-trembling stars"... when the two small, black pages lately dispatched in such haste by Sah-luma returned, each one bearing a huge gilded bowl filled with rose water, together with fine cloths, lace-fringed, and soft as satin. Kneeling humbly down, one before Theos, the other before Sah-luma, they lifted these great, shining bowls on their heads, and remained motionless. Sah-luma dipped his face and hands in the cool, fragrant fluid,--Theos followed his example,--and when these light ablutions were completed, the pages disappeared, coming back almost immediately with baskets of loose rose-leaves, white and red, which they scattered profusely about the room. A delightful odor subtly sweet, and yet not faint, began to freshen the already perfumed air,--and Sah-luma, flinging himself again on his couch, motioned Theos to take a similar resting-place opposite.