The country did not improve through these unusual activities. Affairs assumed a turbulent state; lawlessness prevailed. After a time, the traitorous openly denounced Luud, and there were few who did not sympathize. Those bolder even went so far as to suggest that Alair, the adjacent ruler, rule in his stead. But the king seemed entirely apathetic regarding this, or anything save the Flower-God and its unholy lure. Meanwhile, Alair waited, smiling. Had not the venerable Chancellor, Gra, chosen to intervene, the land would have fast gone to ruin. But he was wise, and took heed of the ultrasensual lure the blossom held for his ruler. Therefore, he saw the futility of attempting to restrain or interfere in any ordinary manner, and consequently resolved upon action that would forever break the reign of the unholy plant. In fine, he determined to destroy the Lord of Flowers. Having made his plans, the following day he noiselessly entered the throne-room, with a long grim knife concealed beneath his scarlet robe. The king did not heed him, for he was enthralled, beyond human affairs. But the plant sensed the presence of the intruder, and perhaps it half-knew his purpose, for the fleshy leaves writhed animatedly, and the green spines stood erect. Yet it did not arouse the entranced supplicant, and the hundred little viper tongues could not ward off the blows of the blade that Gra wielded so judiciously. The swollen blossom was rent and gashed in numberless places before the emperor became aware of it. It was too late then, for great yellow drops of sickening ickor slowly coursed down the drooping vines and the bloom itself was purpling fast. Then it was the king staggered a moment and stared long at his Chancellor in a dazed manner. And Gra was thankful, for the light of madness was dying out, even as the plant faded. The Flower-God was dead. * * * * * PROSE PASTELS by Clark Ashton Smith _2. The Mirror in the Hall of Ebony_