A vague, muttering sound answered him, whether of shame or dissatisfaction it was difficult to tell. Khosrul's vibrating accent struck sharply across that muffled murmur.
"The Poet and the People of Al-Kyris are further asunder than light and darkness!" he cried vehemently—"For the Poet has been false to his high vocation, and the People trust in him no more!"
There was an instant's hush, … a hush as it seemed of grieved acquiescence on the part of the populace,—and during that brief pause Theos's heart gave a fierce bound against his ribs as though some one had suddenly shot at him with a poisoned arrow. He glanced quickly at Sah-luma,—but Sah-luma stood calmly unmoved, his handsome head thrown back, a cynical smile on his lips and his eyes darker than ever with an intensity of unutterable scorn.
"Sah-luma! … Sah-luma!" and the piercing, reproachful voice of the Prophet penetrated every part of the spacious square like a sonorous bell ringing over a still landscape: "O divine Spirit of Song pent up in gross clay, was ever mortal more gifted than thou! In thee was kindled the white fire of Heaven,—to thee were confided the memories of vanished worlds, . . for thee God bade His Nature wear a thousand shapes of varied meaning,—the sun, the moon, the stars were appointed as thy servants,—for thou wert born POET, the mystically chosen Teacher and Consoler of Mankind! What hast thou done, Sah-luma, . . what hast thou done with the treasures bestowed upon thee by the all-endowing Angels? … How hast thou used the talisman of thy genius? To comfort the afflicted? … to dethrone and destroy the oppressor? … to uphold the cause of Justice? … to rouse the noblest instincts of thy race? … to elevate and purify the world? … Alas, alas!—thou hast made Thyself the idol of thy muse, and thou being but perishable, thy fame shall perish with thee! Thou hast drowsed away thy manhood in the lap of vice, . . thou hast slept and dreamed when thou should have been awake and vigilant! Not I, but THOU shouldst have warned the people of their coming doom! … not I, but THOU shouldst have marked the threatening signs of the pregnant hour,—not I, but THOU shouldst have perceived the first faint glimmer of God's future scheme of glad salvation,—not I, but THOU shouldst have taught and pleaded, and swayed by thy matchless sceptre of sweet song, the passions of thy countrymen! Hadst thou been true to that first flame of Thought within thee, O Sah-luma, how thy glory would have dwarfed the power of kings! Empires might have fallen, cities decayed, and nations been absorbed in ruin,—and yet thy clear-convincing voice, rendered imperishable by its faithfulness should have sounded forth in triumph above the foundering wrecks of Time! O Poet unworthy of thy calling! … How thou hast wantoned with the sacred Muse! … how thou hast led her stainless feet into the mire of sensual hypocrisies, and decked her with the trumpery gew-gaws of a meaningless fair speech!—How thou hast caught her by the virginal hair and made her chastity the screen for all thine own licentiousness! … Thou shouldst have humbly sought her benediction,—thou shouldst have handled her with gentle reverence and patient ardor,—from her wise lips thou shouldst have learned how best to PRACTICE those virtues whose praise thou didst evasively proclaim, … thou shouldst have shrined her, throned her, worshiped her, and served her, . . yea! … even as a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!"
Ah, what a strange, cold thrill ran through Theos as he heard these last words! 'As a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!' How happy the man thus loved! … how fortunate the sinner thus permitted to serve! … WHO WAS HE? … Could there be any one so marvellously privileged? He wondered dimly,—and a dull, aching pain throbbed heavily in his brows. It was a very singular thing too, that he should find himself strongly and personally affected by Khosrul's address to Sah-luma, yet such was the case, … so much so, indeed, that he accepted all the Prophet's reproaches as though they applied solely TO HIS OWN PAST LIFE! He could not understand his emotion, … nevertheless he kept on dreamily regretting that things WERE as Khosrul had said, … that he had NOT fulfilled his vocation,—and that he had neither been humble enough nor devout enough nor unselfish enough to deserve the high and imperial name of POET.
Round and round like a flying mote this troublesome idea circled in his brain, … he must do better in future, he resolved, supposing that any future remained to Him in which to work, . . HE MUST REDEEM THE PAST! … Here he roused his mental faculties with a start and forced himself to realize that it was SAH-LUMA to whom the Prophet spoke, . . Sah-luma, ONLY Sah-luma,—not himself!
Then straightway he became indignant on his friend's behalf,—why should Sah-luma be blamed? … Sah-luma was a glorious poet!—a master-singer of singers! … his fume must and should endure forever! … Thus thinking, he regained his composure by degrees, and strove to assume the same air of easy indifference as that exhibited by his companion, when again Khosrul's declamatory tones thundered forth with an absoluteness of emphasis that was both startling and convincing:
"Hear me, Sah-luma, Chief Minstrel of Al-Kyris!—hear me, thou who hast willfully wasted the golden moments of never-returning time! THOU ART MARKED OUT FOR DEATH!—death sudden and fierce as the leap of the desert panther on its prey! … death that shall come to thee through the traitorous speech of the evil woman whose beauty has sapped thy strength and rendered thy glory inglorious!… death that for thee, alas! shall be mournful and utter oblivion! Naught shall it avail to thee that thy musical weaving of words hath been graven seven times over, on tablets of stone and agate and ivory, of gold and white silex and porphyry, and the unbreakable rose-adamant,—none of these shall suffice to keep thy name in remembrance,—for what cannot be broken shall be melted with flame, and what cannot be erased shall be buried miles deep in the bosom of earth, whence it never again shall be lifted into the light of day! Aye! thou shalt be FORGOTTEN!—forgotten as though thou hadst never sung,—other poets shall chant in the world, yet maybe none so well as thou!—other laurel and myrtle wreaths shall be given by countries and kings to bards unworthy, of whom none perchance shall have thy sweetness! … but thou,—thou the most grandly gifted, gift-squandering Poet the world has ever known, shalt be cast among the dust of unremembered nothings, and the name of Sah-luma shall carry no meaning to any man born in the coming here-after! For thou hast cherished within Thyself the poison that withers thee, … the deadly poison of Doubt, the Denial of God's existence, … the accursed blankness of Disbelief in the things of the Life Eternal! … wherefore, thy spirit is that of one lost and rebellious,—whose best works are futile,—whose days are void of example,—and whose carelessly grasped torch of song shall be suddenly snatched from thy hand and extinguished in darkness! God pardon thee, dying Poet! … God give thy parting soul a chance of penance and of sweet redemption! … God comfort thee in that drear Land of Shadow whither thou art bound! … God bring thee forth again from Chaos to a nobler Future! … Sin-burdened as thou art, my blessing follows thee in thy last agony! Sah-luma! … FALLEN ANGEL, SELF-EXILED FROM THY PEERS! … FAREWELL!"
The effect of these strange words was so extraordinarily impressive, that for one instant the astonished and evidently affrighted crowds pressed round Sah-luma eagerly, staring at him in morbid fear and wonder, as though they expected him to drop dead before them in immediate fulfillment of the Prophet's solemn valediction. Theos, oppressed by an inward sickening sense of terror, also regarded him with close and anxious solicitude, but was almost reassured at the first glance.
Never was a greater opposition offered to Khosrul's gloomy prognostications, than that contained in the handsome Laureate's aspect at that moment,—his supple, graceful figure alert with life, . . his glowing face flushed by the sun, and touched with that faintly amused look of serene scorn, . . his glorious eyes, brilliant as jewels under their drooping amorous lids, and the regal poise of his splendid shoulders and throat, as he lifted his head a little more haughtily than usual, and glanced indifferently down from his foothold on the edge of the fountain at the upturned, questioning faces of the throng, … all even to the careless balance and ease of his attitude, betokened his perfect condition of health, and the entire satisfaction he had in the consciousness of his own strength and beauty.