And he tossed a cluster of roses playfully in the air, catching them as they fell again in a soft shower of severed fluttering pink and white petals. Theos listened to his rambling, unguarded words with a sense of acute personal sorrow. Here was a man, young, handsome, and endowed with the rarest gift of nature, a great poetic genius,--a man who had attained in early manhood the highest worldly fame together with the friendship of a king, and the love of a people, . . yet what was he in himself? A mere petty Egoist, . . a poor deluded fool, the unresisting prey of his own passions, . . the besotted slave of a treacherous woman and the voluntary degrader of his own life! What was the use of Genius, then, if it could not aid one to overcome Self, . . what the worth of Fame, if it were not made to serve as a bright incentive and noble example to others of less renown? As this thought passed across his mind, Theos sighed, . . he felt curiously conscience-stricken, ashamed, and humiliated, THROUGH Sah-luma, and solely for Sah-luma's sake! At present, however, his chief anxiety was to get his friend safely out of Lysia'a pavilion before she should return to it, and his spirit chafed within him at each moment of enforced delay. "Come, come, Sah-luma!" he said at last, gently, yet with persuasive earnestness.. "Come away from this place, . . the feast is over,--the fair ones are gone, . . why should we linger? Thou art half-asleep,--believe me 'tis time thou wert home and at rest. Lean upon me, ... so! that is well!"--this, as the other rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched heavily against him, . . "Now let me guide thee,--though of a truth I know not the way through this wondrous woodland maze, . . canst tell me whither we should turn? ... or hast thou no remembrance of the nearest road to thine own dwelling?"-- Thus speaking, he managed to lead his stupefied companion out of the tent into the cool, dewy garden, where, feeling somewhat refreshed by the breath of the night wind blowing on his face, Sah-luma straightened himself, and made an absurd attempt to look exceedingly dignified. "Nay, an thou wilt depart with such scant ceremony"--he grumbled peevishly--"get thee thence and find out the road as best thou mayest! ... why should I aid thee? For myself I am well contented here to remain and sleep,--no better couch can the Poet have than this violet-scented moss"--and he waved his arm with a grandiloquent gesture,--"no grander canopy than this star-besprinkled heaven! Leave me,--for my eyes are wondrous heavy, and I would fain slumber undisturbed till the break of day! By my soul, thou art a rough companion! ..." and he struggled violently to release himself from Theos's resolute and compelling grasp.. "Where wouldst thou drag me?"