though his words came slowly and without any previous reflection
on his own part.

"Alas, most potent Sovereign!" he murmured.. "I am a man of sad
memories, whose soul is like the desert, barren of all beauty! I
may have sung of love in my time, but my songs were never new,--
never worthy to last one little hour! And whatsoever of faith,
passion, or heart-ecstasy my fancy could with devious dreams
devise, Sah-luma knows, . . and in Sah-luma's song all my best
thoughts are said!"

There was a ring of intense pathos in his voice as he spoke,--and
the King eyed him compassionately.

"Of a truth thou seemest to have suffered!" he observed in gentle
accents.. "Thou hast a look as of one bereft of joy. Hast lost
some maiden love of thine? ... and dost thou mourn her still?"

A pang bitter as death shot through Theos's heart, . . had the
monarch suddenly pierced him with his great sword he could
scarcely have endured more anguish! For the knowledge rushed upon
him that he had indeed lost a love so faithful, so unfathomable,
so pure and perfect, that all the world weighed in the balance
against it would have seemed but a grain of dust compared to its
inestimable value! ... but what that love was, and from whom it
emanated, he could no more tell than the tide can tell in
syllabled language the secret of its attraction to the moon.
Therefore he made no answer, . . only a deep, half-smothered sigh
broke from him, and Zephoranim apparently touched by his dejection
continued good-naturedly: