beauty! ... love me, if only for an hour, and then let me die! ...
for I shall have lived out all the joys of life in one embrace of
thine!" His hand trembled as he took the goblet, and he drank half
its contents thirstily,--then imitating Sah-luma's example, he
returned it to her with a profound salutation. Her eyes dwelt
meditatively upon him.

"What a dark, still, melancholy countenance is thine, Sir Theos!"
she said abruptly--"Thou art, for sure, a man of strongly
repressed and concentrated passions, ... 'tis a nature I love! I
would there were more of thy proud and chilly temperament in Al-
Kyris! ... Our men are like velvet-winged butterflies, drinking
honey all day and drowsing in sunshine--full to the brows of
folly,--frail and delicate as the little dancing maidens of the
King's seraglio, . . nervous too, with weak heads, that art apt to
ache on small provocation, and bodies that are apt to fail easily
when but slightly fatigued. Aye!--thou art a man clothed complete
in manliness,--moreover..."

She paused, and leaning forward so that the dark shower of her
perfumed hair brushed his arm ... "Hast ever heard travellers talk
of volcanoes? ... those marvellous mountains that oft wear crowns
of ice on their summits and yet hold unquenchable fire in their
depths? ... Methinks thou dost resemble these,--and that at a
touch, the flames would leap forth uncontrolled!"

Her magical low voice, more melodious in tone than the sound of
harps played by moonlight on the water, thrilled in his ears and
set his pulses beating madly,--with an effort he checked the
torrent of love-words that rushed to his lips, and looked at her