Under the cloudless, star-patterned sky, in the soft, warm air that brimmed with the fragrance of roses, they drove once more together through the spacious streets of Al-Kyris—­streets that were now nearly deserted save for a few late passers-by whose figures were almost as indistinct and rapid in motion as pale, flitting shadows.  There was not a sign of storm in the lovely heavens, though now and again a sullen roll as of a distant cannonade hinted of pent-up anger lurking somewhere behind that clear and exquisitely dark-blue ether, in which a million worlds blazed luminously like pendulous drops of white fire.  Sah-luma’s chariot whirled along with incredible swiftness, the hoofs of the galloping horses occasionally striking sparks of flame from the smooth mosaic-pictured pavement; but Theos now began to notice that there was a strange noiselessness in their movements—­that the whole cortege appeared to be environed by a magic circle of silence—­and that the very night itself seemed breathlessly listening in entranced awe to some unlanguaged warning from the gods invisible.

Compared with the turbulence and terror just left behind at the King’s palace, this weird hush was uncomfortably impressive, and gave a sense of fantastic unreality to the scene.  The sleepy, mesmeric radiance of the full moon, shining on the delicate traceries of the quaintly sculptured houses on either hand, made them look brittle and evanescent; the great heavy, hanging orange-boughs and the feathery frondage of the tall palms seemed outlined in mere mist against the sky; and the glimpses caught from time to time of the broad and quietly flowing river were like so many flashes of light seen through a veil of cloud.  Theos, standing beside his friend with one hand resting familiarly on his shoulder, dreamily admired the phantom-like beauty of the city thus transfigured in the moonbeams, and though he vaguely wondered a little at the deep, mysterious stillness that everywhere prevailed, he scarcely admitted to himself that there was or could be anything unusual in it.  He took his position as he found it—­ indeed he could not well do otherwise, since he felt his fate was ruled by some resolute, unseen force, against which all resistance would be unavailing.  Moreover, his mind was now entirely possessed by the haunting vision of Lysia—­a vision half-human, half-divine —­a beautiful, magical, irresistible Sweetness that allured his soul, and roused within him a wordless passion of infinite desire.

He exchanged not a syllable with Sah-luma—­an indefinable yet tacit understanding existed between them,—­an intuitive foreknowledge and subtle perception of each other’s character, intentions, and aims, that for the moment rendered speech unnecessary.  And there was something, after all, in the profound silence of the night that, while strange, was also eloquent—­ eloquent of meanings, unutterable, such as lie hidden in the scented cups of flowers