idea his own fancy had suggested..  “She tried thee,—­she tempted thee, . . she found thee true and incorruptible..  Ah! ’twas a jest, my friend!” —­and entirely recovering from his depression, he clapped his hand heartily on Theos’s shoulder—­“’Twas all a jest!—­and she the fair inquisitor will herself prove it so ere long, and make merry with our ill-omened fears!  Why, I can laugh now at mine own despondency!—­come, look thou also more cheerily, gentle Theos,—­ and pardon these uncivil fingers that so nearly gripped thee into silence!”—­and he laughed—­“Thou art the best and kindest of loyal comrades, and I will so assure Lysia of thy merit, that she shall institute no more torture-trials upon thy frank and trusting nature.  Heigho!”—­and stretching out his arms lazily, he heaved a sigh of tranquil satisfaction—­“Methought I was wounded into death! but ’twas the mere fancied prick of an arrow after all, and I am well again!  What, art thou still melancholy! ... still sombre! ...  Nay, surely thou wilt not be a veritable kill-joy!”

Theos stood mute and sorely perplexed.  He saw at once how useless it was now to try and convince Sah luma of any danger threatening him through the instigation of the woman he loved,—­he would never believe it!  And yet ... something must be done to put him on his guard.  Taking up the scroll of the public news, where the account of the finding of the body of Nir-jalis was written with all that exaggerated attention to repulsive details which seems to be a special gift of the cheap re-porters, Theos pointed to it.

“His was a cruel end!”—­he said in a low, uncertain voice,—­“Sah-luma, canst thou expect mercy from a woman who has once been so merciless?”

“Bah!” returned the Laureate lightly.  “Who and what was Nir-jalis?  A hewer of stone images—­a no-body!—­he will not be missed!  Besides, he is only one of many who have perished thus.”

“Only one of many!” ejaculated Theos with a shudder of aversion..  “And yet, . .  O thou most reckless and misguided soul! ... thou dost love this wanton murderess!”

A warm flush tinted Sah-luma’s olive skin,—­his hands clenched and unclenched slowly as though he held some struggling, prisoned thing, and raising his head he looked at his companion full and steady with a singularly solemn and reproving expression in his luminous eyes.

“Hast thou not loved her also?” he demanded, a faint, serious smile curving his lips as he spoke, . .  “If only for the space of some few passing moments, was not thy soul ravished, thy heart enslaved, thy manhood conquered by her spell? ...  Aye! ...  Thou dost shrink at that!” And his smile deepened as Theos, suddenly conscience-stricken, avoided his friend’s too-scrutinizing gaze..  “Blame me not, therefore, for thine own weakness!”