yet true; . . I am as a broken straw in a whirlwind,--or the pale
ghost of my own identity groping for things forgotten in a land of
shadows; . . I know not whence I came, nor whither I go! Nay, do
not fear me,--I am not mad: I am conscious of my life, my
strength, and physical well-being,--and though I may speak wildly,
I harbor no ill-intent toward any man--my quarrel is with God
alone!"

He paused,--then resumed in calmer accents,--"You judge rightly,
reverend sir,--I am a stranger in Al-Kyris. I entered the city-
gates this morning when the sun was high,--and ere noon I found
courteous welcome and princely shelter,--I am the guest of the
poet Sah-luma."

The old man looked at him half compassionately.

"Ah, Sah-luma is thine host?" he said with a touch of melancholy
surprise in his tone--"Then wherefore art thou here? ... here in
this dark abode where none may linger and escape with life? ...
how earnest thou within the bounds of Lysid's fatal pleasaunce!
... Has the Laureate's friendship thus misguided thee?"

Theos hesitated before replying. He was again moved by that
curious instinctive dread of hearing Sah-luma's name associated
with any sort of reproach,--and his voice had a somewhat defiant
ring as he answered:

"Nay, surely I am neither child nor woman that I should weakly
yield to guidance or misleading! Some trifling matter of free-will
remains to me in spite of mine affliction,--and that I have supped