feet, Nir-jalis tore open his richly jewelled vest, and pressed
his two hands hard upon his heart, ... the veins in his flesh were
swollen and blue,--his labored breath seemed as though it must
break his ribs in its terrible, panting struggle,--his face, livid
and lined with purple marks like heavy bruises, bore not a single
trace of its former fairness, ... and his eyes, rolled up and
fixed glassily in their quivering sockets, seemed to be dreadfully
filled with the speechless memory of his lately spoken curse. He
staggered toward Theos, and dropped heavily on his knees, . .

"Kill me!" he moaned piteously, feebly pointing to the sheathed
dagger in the other's belt. "In mercy! ... Kill me! ... One
thrust! ... release me! ... this agony is more than I can bear,
... Kill ... Kill. ... !"

His voice died away in an inarticulate, gasping cry,--and Theos
stared down upon him in dizzy fear and horror! For...HE HAD SEEN
THIS SAME NIR-JALIS DYING THUS CRUELLY BEFORE! Oh God! ... where,
--where had this tragedy been previously enacted? Bewildered and
overcome with unspeakable dread, he drew his dagger--he would at
least, he thought, put the tortured sufferer out of his misery,
... but scarcely had his weapon left the sheath, when Lysia's
clear, cold voice exclaimed:

"Disarm him!" and with the silent rapidity of a lightning-flash,
Gazra glided to his side, and the steel was snatched from his
hand. Full of outraged pride and wrath, he sprang up, a torrent of
words rushing to his lips, but before he could utter one, two
slaves pounced upon him, and holding his arms, dexterously wound a
silk scarf tight about his mouth.