stinging tears welled up in his eyes and fell scorchingly on his
clasped hands--tears wrung from the very depth of his secretly
tortured soul. At that moment the beautiful Sah-luma turned toward
him smiling, as one who looked for more sympathetic approbation
than that offered by a mixed throng,--and meeting that happy self-
conscious, bland, half-inquiring gaze, he strove his best to
return the smile. Just then Zephoranim's fiery glance swept over
him with a curious expression of wonder and commiseration.

"By the gods, yon stranger weeps!" said the monarch in a half-
bantering tone...then with more gentleness he added.. "Yet 'tis
not the first time Sah-luma's voice hath unsealed a fountain of
tears! No greater triumph can minstrel have than this,--to move
the strong man's heart to woman's tenderness! We have heard tell
of poets, who singing of death have persuaded many straightway to
die,--but when they sing of sweeter themes, of lover's vows, of
passion-frenzies, and languorous desires, cold is the blood that
will not warm and thrill to their divinely eloquent allurements.
Come hither, fair sir!" and he beckoned to Theos, who mechanically
advanced in obedience to the command--"Thou hast thoughts of thine
own, doubtless, concerning Love, and Love's fervor of delight, . .
hast aught new to tell us of its bewildering spells whereby the
most dauntless heroes in every age have been caught, conquered,
and bound by no stronger chain than a tress of hair, or a kiss
more luscious than all the honey hidden in lotus-flowers?"

Theos looked up dreamily...his eyes wandered from the King to Sah-
luma as though in wistful search for some missing thing, . . his
lips were parched and burning and his brows ached with a heavy
weight of pain, . . but he made an effort to speak and succeeded,