How ghostly and drear seemed that dense crowd in this new light of his delirious fancy! A clammy dew broke out on his forehead,—he saw the blue skies, the huge buildings in the Square, the Obelisk, the fountains, the trees, all whirling round him in a wild dance of the dizziest distraction, … when Sah-luma's rich voice close to his ear recalled his wandering senses:
"Why, man, art thou drunk or mad?" and the Laureate's face expressed a kind of sarcastic astonishment,—"What a fool thou hast made of thyself, good comrade! … By my soul, how shall thy condition be explained to these open-mouthed starers below! See how they gape upon thee! … thou art most assuredly a noticeable spectacle! … and yon maniac Prophet doth evidently judge thee as one of his craft, a fellow professional howler of marvels, else he would scarcely deign to fix his eyes so obstinately on thy countenance! Nay, verily thou dost outrival him in the strangeness of thy language! … What moved thee to such frenzied utterance? Surely thou hast a stroke of the sun!—thy words were most absolutely devoid of reason! … as senseless as the jabber of an idiot to his own shadow on the wall!"
Theos was mute,—he had no defense to offer. The crowd still stared upon him,—and his heart beat fast with a mingled sense of fear and pride—fear of his present surroundings,—pride that he had spoken out his conviction boldly, reckless of all consequences. And this pride was a most curious thing to analyze, because it did not so much consist in the fact of his having openly confessed his inward thought, as that he felt he had gained some special victory in thus ACKNOWLEDGING HIS BELIEF IN THE POSITIVE EXISTENCE OF THE "Saviour" who formed the subject of Khosrul's prophecy. Full of a singular sort of self-congratulation which yet had nothing to do with selfishness, he became so absorbed in his own reflections that he started like a man brusquely aroused from sleep when the Prophet's strong grave voice apostrophized him personally over the heads of the throng:
"Who and what art thou, that dost speak of the FUTURE as though it were the PAST? Hast thou held converse with the Angels, and is Past and Future ONE with thee in the dream of the departing Present? Answer me, thou stranger to the city of Al-Kyris! … Has God taught THEE the way to Everlasting Life?"
Again that awful silence made itself felt like a deadly chill on the sunlit air,—the quiet, patient crowds seemed waiting in hushed suspense for some reply which should be as a flash of spiritual enlightenment to leap from one to the other with kindling heat and radiance, and vivify them all into a new and happier existence. But now, when Theos most strongly desired to speak, he remained dumb as stone! … vainly he struggled against and contended with the invisible, mysterious, and relentless despotism that smote him on the mouth as it were, and deprived him of all power of utterance, … his tongue was stiff and frozen, … his very lips were sealed! Trembling violently, he gazed beseechingly at Sah-luma, who held his arm in a firm and friendly grasp, and who, apparently quickly perceiving that he was distressed and embarrassed, undertook himself to furnish forth what he evidently considered a fitting response to Khosrul's adjuration.
"Most venerable Seer!" he cried mockingly, his bright face radiant with mirth and his dark eyes flashing a careless contempt as he spoke—"Thou art as short-sighted as thine own auguries if thou canst not at once comprehend the drift of my friend's humor! He hath caught the infection of thy fanatic eloquence, and, like thee, knows naught of what he says: moreover he hath good wine and sunlight mingled in his blood, whereby he hath been doubtless moved to play a jest upon thee. I pray thee heed him not! He is as free to declare thy Prophecy is of the PAST, as thou art to insist on its being of the FUTURE,—in both ways 'tis a most foolish fallacy! Nevertheless, continue thy entertaining discourse, Sir Graybeard! . . . and if thou must needs address thyself to any one soul in particular, why let it be me,—for though, thanks to mine own excellent good sense, I have no faith in angels nor crosses, nor everlasting life, nor any of the strange riddles wherewith thou seekest to perplex and bewilder the brains of the ignorant, still am I Laureate of the realm, and ready to hold argument with thee,—yea!—until such time as these dumfounded soldiers and citizens of Al-Kyris shall remember their duty sufficiently to seize and take thee captive in the King's great name!"
As he ceased a deep sigh ran, like the first sound of a rising wind among trees, through the heretofore motionless multitude,—a faint, dawning, yet doubtful smile reflected itself on their faces,—and the old familiar shout broke feebly from their lips:
"Hail, Sah-luma! Let us hear Sah-luma!"
Sah-luma looked down upon them all in airy derision.
"O fickle, terror-stricken fools!" he exclaimed—"O thankless and disloyal people! What!—ye WILL see me now? … ye WILL hear me? … Aye! but who shall answer for your obedience to my words! Nay, is it possible that I, your country's chosen Chief Minstrel, should have stood so long among ye disregarded! How comes it your dull eyes and ears were fixed so fast upon yon dotard miscreant whose days are numbered? Methought t'was but Sah-luma's voice that could persuade ye to assemble thus in such locust-like swarms.. since when have the Poet and the People of Al-Kyris ceased to be as one?"