"Ye gods! what fools are women!" he said wearily. "Ever hovering uncertainly on a narrow verge between silly smiles and sillier tears! As I live, they are most uncomfortable play-fellows!--and dwelling with them long would drive all the inspiration out of man, no matter how nobly he were gifted! Ye butterflies--ye little fluttering souls!" and beginning to laugh as readily as he had frowned, he addressed the other maidens, who, though they did not dare to move or speak, were evidently affected by the grief of their companion--"Go hence all!-and take this sensitive baby, Zoralin, into your charge, and console her for her fancied troubles--'tis a mere frenzy of feminine weakness, and will pass like an April shower. But, ... by the Sacred Veil!--if I saw much of woman's weeping, I would discard forever woman's company, and dwell in peaceful hermit fashion alone among the treetops! ... so heed the warning, pretty ones! ... Let me witness none of your tears if ye are wise,--or else say farewell to Sah-luma, and seek some less easy and less pleasing service!" With this injunction he signed to them all to depart,--whereupon the awed and trembling girls noiselessly surrounded the still convulsively sobbing Zoralin, and gently leading her away, they quickly withdrew, each one making a profound obeisance to their imperious master ere leaving his presence. When they had finally disappeared Sah-luma heaved a sigh of relief. "Can anything equal the perverseness of these frivolous feminine toys!" he murmured pettishly, turning his head round toward Theos as he spoke--"Was ever a more foolish child than Zoralin? ... Just as I would fain have consoled her for her pricking heartache, she must needs pour out a torrent of tear-drops to change my humor and quench her own delight! 'Tis the most irksome inconsistency!" Theos glanced at him with a vague emotion of wonder and self-reproachful sadness. "Nay, wouldst thou indeed have consoled her, Sah-luma?" he inquired gravely, "How?" "How?" and Sah-luma laughed musically.. "My simple friend, dost thou ask me such a babe's question?"... He sprang from his couch, and standing erect, pushed his clustering dark hair off his wide, bold brows. . "Am I disfigured, aged, lame, or crooked-limbed? ... Cannot these arms embrace?--these lips engender kisses?--these eyes wax amorous? ... and shall not one brief hour of love with me console the weariest maid that ever pined for passion? ... Now, by my faith, how solemn is thy countenance! ... Art thou an anchorite, good Theos, and wouldst thou have me scourge my flesh and groan, because the gods have given me youth and vigorous manhood?" He drew himself up with an inimitable gesture of pride,--his attitude was statuesque and noble,--and Theos looked at him as he would have looked at a fine picture, with a sense of critically satisfied admiration.