bitterly angry with himself for having indulged in it. How
recreant, how base an idea! ... how incompatible with the adoring
homage he felt for his friend! What!--Sah-luma,--a Poet, whose
songs of Love were so perfect, so wildly sweet and soul-
entrancing--HE, to be ignorant of Love's true meaning? ... Oh,
impossible!--and a burning flush of shame rose to Theos's brow,--
shame that he could have entertained such a blasphemy against his
Idol for a moment! Then that curious, vague, soft contrition he
had before experienced stole over him once again--a sudden
moisture filled his eyes,--and turning abruptly toward his host he
held out his own just filled goblet:

"Drink we the loving-cup together, Sah-luma!" he said, and his
voice trembled a little with its own deep tenderness, . . "Pledge me
thy faith as I do pledge thee mine! And for to-day at least let me
enjoy thy boon companionship, . . who knows how soon we may be
forced to part ... forever!" And he breathed the last word softly
with a faint sigh.

Sah-luma looked at him with an expressive glance of bright
surprise.

"Part?" he exclaimed joyously--"Nay, not we, my friend! ... Not
till we find each other tiresome, . . not till we prove that our
spirits, like over-mettlesome steeds, do chafe and fret one
another too rudely in the harness of custom, . . wherefore then, and
then only, 'twill be time to break loose at a gallop, and seek
each one a wider pasture-land! Meanwhile, here's to thee!"--and
bending his handsome head he readily drank a deep draught of the
proffered wine.. "May all the gods hold fast our bond of