rescue him, and Theos, without more ado, bent above him and called
aloud:

"Sah-luma! ... Wake! Sah-luma!"




CHAPTER XX.

THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS.


Sah-luma stirred uneasily and smiled in his sleep.

"More wine!" he muttered thickly--"More, . . more I say! What! wilt
thou stint the generous juice that warms my soul to song? Pour, . .
pour out lavishly! I will mix the honey of thy luscious lips with
the crimson bubbles on this goblet's brim, and the taste thereof
shall be as nectar dropped from paradise! Nay, nay! I will drink
to none but Myself,--to the immortal bard Sah-luma,--Poet of
poets,--named first and greatest on the scroll of Fame! ... aye,
'tis a worthy toast and merits a deeper draught of mellow vintage!
Fill...fill again!--the world is but the drunken dream of a God
Poet and we but the mad revellers of a shadow day! 'Twill pass--
'twill pass, . . let us enjoy ere all is done,--drown thought in
wine, and love, and music, . . wine and music..."

His voice broke in a short, smothered sigh,--Theos surveyed him
with mingled impatience, pity, and something of repulsion, and