in no way to himself—­it did not much matter what happened to him—­he was a mere nobody.  He could be of no use anywhere; he was as one banished into strange exile; his brain—­that brain he had once deemed so clear, so subtle, so eminently reasoning and all-comprehensive—­was now nothing but a chaotic confusion of vague suggestions, and only served to very slightly guide him in the immediate present, giving him no practical clue at all as to the past through which he had lived, or the circumstances he most wished to remember.  He was a fool—­a dreamer—­ungifted—­unfamous! ... were he to die, not a soul would regret his loss.  His own fate therefore concerned him little—­he could handle fire recklessly and not feel the flame; he could, so he believed, run any risk, and yet escape, comparatively free of harm.

But with Sah-luma it was different!  Sah-luma must be guarded and cherished; his was a valuable life—­the life of a genius such as the world sees but once in a century—­and it should not, so Theos determined,—­be emperilled or wasted; no! not even for the sake of the sensuous, exquisite, conquering beauty of this dazzling Priestess of the Sun—­the fairest sorceress that ever triumphed over the frail yet immortal Spirit of Man!

CHAPTER XVIII.

The love that kills.

How the time went he could not tell; in so gay and gorgeous a scene hours might easily pass with the swiftness of unmarked moments.  Peals of laughter echoed now and again through the vaulted dome, and excited voices were frequently raised in clamorous disputations and contentious arguments that only just sheered off the boundary-line of an actual quarrel.  All sorts of topics were discussed—­the laws, the existing mode of government, the latest discoveries in science, and the military prowess of the King—­but the conversation chiefly turned on the spread of disloyalty, atheism, and republicanism among the population of Al-Kyris,—­and the influence of Khosrul on the minds of the lower classes.  The episode of the Prophet’s late capture and fresh escape seemed to be perfectly well known to all present, though it had occurred so recently; one would have thought the detailed account of it had been received through some private telephone, communicating with the King’s palace.

As the banquet progressed and the wine flowed more lavishly, the assembled guests grew less and less circumspect in their general behavior; they flung themselves full length on their luxurious couches, in the laziest attitudes, now pulling out handfuls of flowers from the tall porcelain jars that stood near, and pelting one another with them for mere idle diversion, . . now summoning the attendant slaves to refill their wine-cups while they lay lounging at ease among their heaped-up cushions of silk and embroidery; and yet with all the voluptuous freedom of their manners, the picturesque grace that distinguished