Sah-luma laughed rather harshly.

"Freedom! By the gods, 'tis a delusive word embodying a vain idea!
Where is there any freedom in life? All of us are bound in chains
and restricted in one way or the other,--the man who deems himself
politically free is a slave to the multitude and his own ambition
--while he who shakes himself loose from the trammels of custom and
creed, becomes the tortured bondsman of desire, tied fast with
bruising cords to the rack of his own unbridled sense and
appetite. There is no such thing as freedom, my friend, unless
haply it may be found in death! Come,--let us in to supper,--the
hour grows late, and my heart aches with an unsought heaviness,--I
must cheer me with a cup of wine, or my songs to-night will sadden
rather than rouse the King. Come,--and thou shalt speak to me
again of the life that is to be lived hereafter,"--and he smiled
with certain pathos in his smile,--"for there are times, believe
me, when in spite of all my fame and the sweetness of existence, I
weary of earth's days and nights, and find them far too brief and
mean to satisfy my longings. Not the world,--but worlds--should be
the Poet's heritage."

Theos looked at him, with a feeling of unutterable yearning
affection, and regret, but said nothing, . . and together they
ascended the steps of the stately marble terrace and paced slowly
across it, keeping as near to each other as shadow to substance,
and thus reentered the palace, where the sound of a distant harp
alone penetrated the perfumed stillness. It must be Niphrata who
was playing, thought Theos, ... and what strange and plaintive
chords she swept from the vibrating strings! ... They seemed laden
with the tears of broken-hearted women dead and buried ages upon