A few slow, dreadful minutes elapsed, . . and then,--then the first sharpness of his strange mental agony subsided. The strained tension of his nerves gave way, and a dull apathy of grief inconsolable settled upon him. He felt himself to be a man mysteriously accurst,--banished as it were out of life, and stripped of all he had once held dear and valuable. HOW HAD IT HAPPENED? Why was he set apart thus, solitary, poor, and empty of all worth, WHILE ANOTHER REAPED THE FRUITS OF HIS GENIUS? ... He heard the loud plaudits of the assembled court shaking the vast hall as the Laureate ended his song--and, drooping his head, some stinging tears welled up in his eyes and fell scorchingly on his clasped hands--tears wrung from the very depth of his secretly tortured soul. At that moment the beautiful Sah-luma turned toward him smiling, as one who looked for more sympathetic approbation than that offered by a mixed throng,--and meeting that happy self-conscious, bland, half-inquiring gaze, he strove his best to return the smile. Just then Zephoranim's fiery glance swept over him with a curious expression of wonder and commiseration. "By the gods, yon stranger weeps!" said the monarch in a half-bantering tone...then with more gentleness he added.. "Yet 'tis not the first time Sah-luma's voice hath unsealed a fountain of tears! No greater triumph can minstrel have than this,--to move the strong man's heart to woman's tenderness! We have heard tell of poets, who singing of death have persuaded many straightway to die,--but when they sing of sweeter themes, of lover's vows, of passion-frenzies, and languorous desires, cold is the blood that will not warm and thrill to their divinely eloquent allurements. Come hither, fair sir!" and he beckoned to Theos, who mechanically advanced in obedience to the command--"Thou hast thoughts of thine own, doubtless, concerning Love, and Love's fervor of delight, . . hast aught new to tell us of its bewildering spells whereby the most dauntless heroes in every age have been caught, conquered, and bound by no stronger chain than a tress of hair, or a kiss more luscious than all the honey hidden in lotus-flowers?" Theos looked up dreamily...his eyes wandered from the King to Sah-luma as though in wistful search for some missing thing, . . his lips were parched and burning and his brows ached with a heavy weight of pain, ... but he made an effort to speak and succeeded, though his words came slowly and without any previous reflection on his own part. "Alas, most potent Sovereign!" he murmured.. "I am a man of sad memories, whose soul is like the desert, barren of all beauty! I may have sung of love in my time, but my songs were never new,--never worthy to last one little hour! And whatsoever of faith, passion, or heart-ecstasy my fancy could with devious dreams devise, Sah-luma knows, . . and in Sah-luma's song all my best thoughts are said!"