unafraid."

His powerful and indignant voice had the effect of partially
checking the panic and restoring something like order,--the
pushing and struggling for an immediate exit ceased,--the armed
guards in shamed silence began to marshal themselves together in
readiness to start on the search for the fugitive,--and several
pages rushed in with flaring torches, which cast a wondrous fire-
glow on the surging throng of eager and timid faces, the brilliant
costumes, the flash of jewels, the glimmer of swords and the dark
outlines of the fluttering tapestry,--all forming together a
curious chiaroscuro, from which the massive figure of Zephoranim
stood out in bold and striking prominence against the white and
silver background of his throne. Vaguely bewildered and lost in a
dim stupefaction of wonderment, Theos looked upon everything with
an odd sense of strained calmness, . . the glittering saloon whirled
before his eyes like a passing picture in a magic glass...and
then...an imperative knowledge forced itself upon his mind,--HE
HAD WITNESSED THIS SELF-SAME SCENE BEFORE! Where? and when? ...
Impossible to say,--but he distinctly remembered each incident!
This impression however left him as rapidly as it had come, before
he had any time to puzzle himself about it, . . and just at that
moment Sah-luma's hand caught his own,--Sah-luma's voice whispered
in his ear:

"Let us away, my friend,--there will be naught now but mounting of
guards and dire confusion,--the King is as a lion roused, and will
not cease growling till his vengeance be satisfied! A plague on
this shatter-pated Prophet!--he hath broken through my music, and
jarred poesy into discord!--By the Sacred Veil!--Didst ever hear