"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