"Let it be sad no longer then!" he said, caressing her cheek with his hand,--and Theos saw a wave of rich color mounting swiftly to her fair brows at his touch, as though she were a white poppy warming to crimson in the ardent heat of the sun--"I love to see thee merry,--mirth suits a young and beauteous face like thine! Look you, Sweet!--I bring with me here a stranger from far-off lands,--one to whom Sah-luma's name is as a star in the desert!--I must needs have thy voice in all its full lusciousness of tune to warble for his pleasure those heart-entangling ditties of mine which thou hast learned to render with such matchless tenderness! ... Thanks, Gisenya," ... this as another maiden advanced, and, gently removing the myrtle-wreath he wore, placed one just freshly woven on his clustering curls, . . then, turning to Theos, he inquired--"Wilt thou also wear a minstrel-garland, my friend? Niphrata or Gisenya will crown thee!" "I am not worthy"--answered Theos, bending his head in low salutation to the two lovely girls, who stood eying him with a certain wistful wonder--"One spray from Sah-luma's discarded wreath will best suffice me!" Sah-luma broke into a laugh of absolute delight. "I swear thou speakest well and like a true man!" he said joyously. "Unfamous as thou art, thou deservest honor for the frank confession of thy lack of merit! Believe me, there are some boastful rhymers in Al-Kyris who would benefit much by a share of thy becoming modesty! Give him his wish, Gisenya--" and Gisenya, obediently detaching a sprig of myrtle from the wreath Sah-luma had worn all day, handed it to Theos with a graceful obeisance--"For who knows but the leaves may contain a certain witchery we wot not of, that shall endow him with a touch of the divine inspiration!" At that moment, a curious figure came shuffling across the splendid hall,--that of a little old man somewhat shabbily attired, upon whose wrinkled countenance there seemed to be a fixed, malign smile, like the smile of a mocking Greek mask. He had small, bright, beady black eyes placed very near the bridge of his large hooked nose,--his thin, wispy gray locks streamed scantily over his bent shoulders, and he carried a tall staff to support his awkward steps,--a staff with which he made a most disagreeable tapping noise on the marble pavement as he came along.