As he uttered these words Niphrata entered, carrying a golden
salver on which were placed a tall flagon, two goblets, and a
basket of fruit. She approached Theos first, and he, raising
himself on his elbow, surveyed her with fresh admiration and
interest while he poured out the wine from the flagon into one of
those glistening cups, which he noticed were rough with the
quantity of small gems used in their outer ornamentation.

He was struck by her fair and melancholy style of loveliness, and
as she stood before him with lowered eyes, the color alternately
flushing and paling on her cheeks, and her bosom heaving
restlessly beneath the loosely drawn folds of her prim rose-hued
gown, an inexplicable emotion of pity smote him, as if he had
suddenly been made aware of some inward sorrow of hers which he
was utterly powerless to console. He would have spoken, but just
then could find nothing appropriate to say, . . and when he had
selected a fine peach from the heaped-up dainties offered for his
choice, he still watched her as she turned to Sah-luma, who
smiled, and bade her set down her salver on a low, bronze stand at
his side. She did so, and then with the warm blood burning in her
cheeks, stood waiting and silent. Sah-luma, with a lithe movement
of his supple form, lifted himself into a half-sitting posture,
and throwing one arm round her waist, drew her close to his breast
and kissed her.

"My fairest moonbeam!" he said gayly--"Thou art as noiseless and
placid as thy yet unembodied sisters that stream through heaven
and dance on the river when the world is sleeping! Myrtle! ..."
and he detached a spray from the bosom of her dress--"What hast
thou to do with the poet's garland? By my faith, thou art like