"Now, by my soul! ... thou art a most unmannerly ruffian!" he said pettishly, yet with a vacant smile,--"what question didst thou bawl unmusically in mine ear? Will I be drunk at sunrise? Aye! ... and at sunset too, Sir Malapert, if that will satisfy thee! Hast thou been grudged sufficient wine that thou dost envy me my slumber? What dost thou here? ... where hast thou been?".. and, becoming more conscious of his surroundings he suddenly stood up, and catching hold of Theos to support himself, gazed upon him suspiciously with very dim and bloodshot eyes ... "Art thou fresh from the arms of the ravishing Nelida? ... is she not fair? a choice morsel for a lover's banquet? ... Doth she not dance a madness into the veins? ... aye, aye!--she was reserved for thee, my jolly roysterer! but thou art not the first nor wilt thou be the last that hath revelled in her store of charms! No matter!"--and he laughed foolishly ... "Better a wild dancer than a tame prude!" Here he looked about him in confused bewilderment.. "Where is Lysia? Was she not here a moment since? ..." and he staggered toward the neighboring pavilion, and dashed the dividing curtain aside ... "Lysia! ... Lysia! ..." he shouted noisily,--then, receiving no answer, he flung himself down on the vacant couch of roses, and gathering up a handful of the crumpled flowers, kissed them passionately,--"The witch has flown!" he said, laughing again that mirthless, stupid laugh as he spoke--"She doth love to tantalize me thus! ... Tell me! what dost thou think of her? Is she not a peerless moon of womanhood? ... doth she not eclipse all known or imaginable beauty? ... Aye! ... and I will tell thee a secret,--she is mine!--mine from the dark tresses down to the dainty feet! ... mine, all mine, so long as I shall please to call her so! ...--notwithstanding that the foolish people of Al-Kyris think she is impervious to love, self-centered, holy and 'immaculate'! Bah! ... as if a woman ever was 'immaculate'! But mark you! ... though she loves me,--me, crowned Laureate of the realm, she loves no other man! And why? Because no other man is found half so worthy of love! All men must love her, . . Nirjalis loved her, and he is dead because of overmuch presumption, . . and many there be who shall still die likewise, for love of her, but _I_ am her chosen and elected one,--her faith is mine!--her heart is mine,--her very soul is mine!--mine I would swear though all the gods of the past, present, and future denied her constancy!" Here his uncertain, wandering gaze met the grave, pained, and almost stern regard of Theos. "Why dost thou stare thus owl-like upon me?"--he demanded irritably.. "Art thou not my friend and worshipper? Wilt preach? Wilt moralize on the folly of the time,--the vices of the age? Thou lookest it,--but prithee hold thy peace an thou lovest me!--we can but live and die and there's an end, . . all's over with the best and wisest of us soon,--let us be merry while we may!"