"Aye,--poor tender little soul, she loves me,".. he said carelessly--"That is no secret! But then all women love me,--I am more like to die of a surfeit of love than of anything else" He moved towards the open window "Come!--" he added--"It is the hour of sunset,--there is a green hillock in my garden yonder from whence we can behold the pomp and panoply of the golden god's departure. 'Tis a sight I never miss,--I would have thee share its glory with me." "But art thou then indifferent to woman's tenderness?" asked Theos half banteringly, as he took his arm--"Dost thou love no one?" "My friend"--replied Sah-luma seriously--"I love Myself! I see naught that contents me more than my own Personality,--and with all my heart I admire the miracle and beauty of my own existence! There is nothing even in the completest fairness of womanhood that satisfies me so much as the contemplation of my own genius,--realizing as I do its wondrous power and perfect charm! The life of a poet such as I am is a perpetual marvel!--the whole Universe ministers to my needs,--Humanity becomes the merest bound slave to the caprice of my imperial imagination,--with a thought I scale the stars,--with a wish I float in highest ether among spheres undiscovered yet familiar to my fancy--I converse with the spirits of flowers and fountains,--and the love of women is a mere drop in the deep ocean of my unfathomed delight! Yes,--I adore my own Identity! ... and of a truth Self-worship is the only Creed the world has ever followed faithfully to the end!" He glanced up with a bright, assured smile,--Theos met his gaze wonderingly, doubtfully,--but made no reply,--and together they paced slowly across the marble terrace, and out into the glorious garden, rich with the riotous roses that clambered and clustered everywhere, their hues deepening to flame-like vividness in the burning radiance of the sinking sun. CHAPTER XIV. THE SUMMONS OF THE SIGNET. They walked side by side for some little time without speaking, through winding paths of alternate light and shade, sheltered by the latticework of crossed and twisted green boughs where only the amorous chant of charming birds now and then broke the silence with fitful and tender sweetness. All the air about them was fragrant and delicate,--tiny rainbow-winged midges whirled round and danced in the warm sunset-glow like flecks of gold in amber wine,--while here and there the distant glimmer of tossing fountains, or the soft emerald sheen of a prattling brook that wound in and out the grounds, amongst banks of moss and drooping fern, gave a pleasant touch of coolness and refreshment to the brilliant verdure of the luxuriant landscape.