glanced at those persons who stood nearest to him, . . no one seemed
to hear anything unusual. Moreover all eyes were fixed fearfully
on Khosrul, whose before rigidly sombre demeanor had suddenly
changed, and who now with raised head, tossed hair, outstretched
arms, and wild gestures looked like a flaming Terror personified.

"Victory... Victory!" he cried, catching at the King's last
word ... "There shall be no more victory for thee, Zephoranim! ...
Thy conquests are ended, and the flag of thy glory shall cease to
wave on the towers of thy strong citadels! Death stands behind
thee! ... Destruction clamors at thy palace-gates! ... and the
enemy that cometh upon thee unawares is an enemy that none shall
vanquish or subdue, not even they who are mightiest among the
mighty! Thy strong men of war shall be trodden down as wheat,--thy
captains and rulers shall tremble and wail as children bewildered
with fear:--thy great engines of battle shall be to thee as
naught,--and the arrows of thy skilled archers shall be useless as
straws in the gathering tempest of fire and fury! Zephoranim!
Zephoranim! ..." and his voice shrilled with terrific emphasis
through the vaulted chamber ... "The days of recompense are come
upon thee,--swift and terrible as the desert-wind! ... The doom of
Al-Kyris is spoken, and who shall avert its fulfilment! Al-Kyris
the Magnificent shall fall.. shall fall! ... its beauty, its
greatness, its pleasantness, its power, shall be utterly
destroyed.. and ere the waning of the midsummer moon not one stone
of its glorious buildings shall be left to prove that here was
once a city? Fire! ... Fire! ..." and here he ran abruptly to the
foot of the royal dais, his dark garments brushing against Theos
as he passed,--and springing on the first step, stood boldly
within hand-reach of the King, who, taken aback by the suddenness