"How can I"--then mused Theos disconsolately,--"How can I make him
believe that some undeclared evil threatens him, when he is at the
very pinnacle of fame and fortune with all Al-Kyris at his feet?
... He would never listen to me, ... nor would any persuasions of
mine induce him to leave the city where his name is so glorious
and his renown so firmly established. Of Lysia's treachery I may
perhaps convince him, ... yet even in this attempt I may fail, and
incur his hatred for my pains! If I had only myself to consider!
... "--And here his reflections suddenly took a strange, unbidden
turn. If he had only himself to consider! ... well, what then! Was
it not just within the bounds of probability that, under the same
circumstances, he might be precisely as self-willed and as
haughtily opinionated as the friend whose arrogance he deplored,
yet could not alter?

So pointed a suggestion was not exactly suited to his immediate
humor, and he felt curiously vexed with himself for indulging in
such a foolish association of ideas! The positions were entirely
different, he argued, angrily addressing the troublesome inward
monitor that every now and then tormented him,--there was no
resemblance whatever between himself, the unknown, unfamed
wanderer in a strange land, and the brilliant Sah-luma, chosen
Poet Laureate of the realm!

No resemblance, . . none at all! ... he reiterated over and over
again in his own mind, . . except ... except, ... well! ... except
in perhaps a few trifling touches of character and temper that
were scarcely worth the noting! At this juncture, his
uncomfortable reverie was interrupted by the sound of a harsh,
metallic voice close behind him.