a gilded image in a shrine of ebony. Theos beheld the brilliant
apparition in some doubt and wonder. Was this Lysia? He could not
see her face, as she wore a thick white veil through which only
the faintest sparkle of dark eyes glimmered like flickering
sunbeams; nor was he able to discern the actual outline of her
form, as it was completely enveloped and lost in the wide,
shapeless folds of her stiff, golden gown. Yet every nerve in his
body thrilled at her presence! ... every drop of blood seemed to
rush from his heart to his brain in a swift, scorching torrent
that for a second blinded his eyes with a red glare and made him
faint and giddy.

Woman and tigress! They looked strangely alike, he thought, as
they stood mutually caressing each other under the great drooping
masses of fantastic leaves. Yet where was the resemblance? What
possible similarity could there he between a tawny, treacherous
brute of the forests, full of sly malice and voracious cruelty,
and that dazzling, gold-garmented creature, whose small white
hand, flashing with jewels, now tenderly smoothed the black,
silken stripes on the sleek coat of her savage favorite?

"Down, sweet Aizif, down!" she said, in a grave, dulcet voice as
softly languorous as the last note of a love-song. "Down, my
gentle one! thou art too fond, down! so!" this as the tigress
instantly removed its embracing paws from her neck, and, trembling
in every limb, crouched on the ground in abjectly submissive
obedience. Another moment, and she advanced leisurely into the
pavilion, Aizif slinking stealthily along beside her and seeming
to imitate her graceful gliding movements, till she stood within a
few paces of Theos and Sah-luma, just near the spot where the