struggles became with each moment more and more frightful to
witness. The impassive, cold-blooded calmness with which all the
men present, even Sah-luma, looked on at the revolting spectacle
of their late comrade's torture, filled Theos with shuddering
abhorrence, ... sick at heart, he strove to turn away his eyes
from the straining throat and upturned face of the miserable Nir-
jalis,--a face that had a moment or two before been beautiful, but
was now so disfigured as to be almost beyond recognition.
Presently as the anguish of the poisoned victim increased, shriek
after shriek broke from his pallid lips, . . rolling himself on the
ground like a wild beast, he bit his hands and arms in his frenzy
till he was covered with blood, ... and again and yet again the
dulcet laughter of the High Priestess echoed through the length
and breadth of the splendid hall,--and even Sah-luma, the poet
Sah-luma, condescended to smile! That smile, so cold, so cruel, so
unpitying, made Theos for a moment hate him, . . of what use, he
thought, was it, to be a writer of soft and delicate verse, if the
inner nature of the man was merciless, selfish, and utterly
regardless of the woes of others? ... The rest of the guests were
profoundly indifferent,--they kept silence, it is true, ... but
they went on drinking their wine with perfectly unabated
enjoyment.. they were evidently accustomed to such scenes. The
attendant slaves stood all mute and motionless, with the exception
of Gazra, who surveyed the torments of Nir-jalis with an air of
professional interest, and appeared to be waiting till they should
have reached that pitch of excruciating agony when Nature,
exhausted, gives up the conflict and welcomes death as a release
from pain.

But this desirable end was not yet. Suddenly springing to his