confess thyself a prey to thine own passions,--a credulous victim
of Lysia's treachery!"

For one second the Laureate stood amazed, . . the next, he sprang
upon his guest and grasping him fiercely by the throat.

"Treachery?" he muttered with white lips.. "Treachery? ... Darest
thou speak of treachery and Lysia in the same breath? ... O thou
rash fool! dost thou blaspheme my lady's name and yet not fear to
die?"

And his lithe brown fingers tightened their clutch. But Theos
cared nothing for his own life,--some inward excitation of feeling
kept him resolute and perfectly controlled.

"Kill me, Sah-luma!" he gasped--"Kill me, friend whom I love! ...
death will be easy at thy hands! Deprive me of my sad existence, . .
'tis better so, than that _I_ should have slain THEE last night at
Lysia's bidding!"

At this, Sah-luma suddenly released his hold and started backward
with a sharp cry of anguish, . . his face was pale, and his
beautiful eyes grew strained and piteous.

"Slain ME! ... Me! ... at Lysia's bidding!" he murmured wildly..
"O ye gods, the world grows dark! is the sun quenched in heaven?
... At Lysia's bidding! ..Nay, . . by my soul, my sight is dimmed!
... I see naught but flaring red in the air, . . Why! ..." and he
laughed discordantly.. "thou poor Theos, thou shalt use no
dagger's point,--for lo! ... I am dead already! ... Thy words have