"Art thou sure, Sah-luma, thou dost not instinctively feel that there is a Higher Power hidden behind the veil of visible Nature?—and that in the Far Beyond there may be an Eternity of Joy where thou shalt find all thy grandest aspirations at last fulfilled?"
Sah-luma laughed,—a clear, vibrating laugh as mellow as the note of a thrush in spring-time.
"Thou solemn soul!" he exclaimed mirthfully—"My aspirations ARE fulfilled!—I aspire to no more than fame,—and that I hold,—that I shall keep so long as this world is lighted by the sun!"
"And what use is Fame to thee in Death!" demanded Theos with sudden and emphatic earnestness.
Sah-luma stood still,—over his beautiful face came a shadow of intense melancholy,—he raised his brilliant eyes full of wistful pathos and pleading.
"I pray thee do not make me sad, my friend!" he murmured tremulously—"These thoughts are like muttering thunder in my heaven! Death!".. and a quick sigh escaped him—"'Twill be the breaking of my harp and heart! … the last note of my failing voice and eversilenced song!"
A moisture as of tears glistened on the silky fringe of his eyelids,—his lips quivered,—he had the look of a Narcissus regretfully bewailing his own perishable loveliness. On a swift impulse of affection Theos threw one arm round, his neck in the fashion of a confiding school-boy walking with his favorite companion.
"Nay, thou shalt never die, Sah-luma!" he said with a sort of passionate eagerness,—"Thy bright soul shall live forever in a sunshine sweeter than that of earth's fairest midsummer noon! Thy song can never be silenced while heaven pulsates with the unwritten music of the spheres,—and even were the crown of immortality denied to lesser men, it is, it must be the heritage of the poet! For to him all crowns belong, all kingdoms are thrown open, all barriers broken down,—even those that divide us from the Unseen,—and God Himself has surely a smile to spare for His Singers who have made the sad world joyful if only for an hour!"
Sah-luma looked up with a pleased yet wondering glance.
"Thou hast a silvery and persuasive tongue!" he said gently—"And thou speakest of God as if thou knewest one akin to Him. Would I could believe all thou sayest! … but alas!—I cannot. We have progressed too far in knowledge, my friend, for faith…. yet…" He hesitated a moment, then with a touch of caressing entreaty in his tone went on. … "Thinkest thou in very truth that I shall live again? For I confess to thee, it seems beyond all things strange and terrible to feel that this genius of mine,—this spirit of melody which inhabits my frame, should perish utterly without further scope for its abilities. There have been moments when my soul, ravished by inspiration, has, as it were, seized Earth like a full goblet of wine, and quaffed its beauties, its pleasures, its loves, its glories all in one burning draught of song! … when I have stood in thought on the shadowy peaks of time, waiting for other worlds to string like beads on my thread of poesy,—when wondrous creatures habited in light and wreathed with stars have floated round and round me in rosy circles of fire,—and once, methought … 'twas long ago now—I heard a Voice distinct and sweet that called me upward, onward and away, I know not where,—save that a hidden Love awaited me!" He broke off with a rapt almost angelic expression in his eyes, then sighing a little he resumed: "All dreams of course! … vague phantoms,—creations of my own imaginative brain,—yet fair enough to fill my heart with speechless longings for ethereal raptures unseen, unknown! Thou hast, methinks, a certain faith in the unsolved mysteries,—but I have none,—for sweet as the promise of a future life may seem, there is no proof that it shall ever be. If one died and rose again from the dead, then might we all believe and hope.. but otherwise …"