"Friend Nir-jalis," she said, . . how tuneful were her accents, . . how chilly sweet her smile! … "Methinks thou art grown altogether too wise for this world! … 'tis pity thou shouldest continue to linger in so narrow and incomplete a sphere! … Depart hence therefore! … I shall frely excuse thine absence, since THY HOUR HAS COME! …"
And, taking from the table at her side a tall crystal chalice fashioned in the form of a lily set on a golden stem, she held it up toward him. Starting wildly from his couch he looked at her, as though doubting whether he had heard her words aright, . . a strong shudder shook him from head to foot, . . his hands clenched themselves convulsively together,—and then slowly, slowly, he staggered to his feet and stood upright. He was suddenly but effectually sobered—the flush of intoxication died off his cheeks—and his eyes grew strained and piteous. Theos, watching him in wonder and fear, saw his broad chest heave with the rapid-drawn gasping of his breath, ..he advanced a step or two—then all at once stretched out his hands in imploring agony.
"Lysia!" he murmured huskily. "Lysia! … pardon! … spare me! … For the sake of past love have pity!"
At this Sah-luma sprang up from his lounging posture on the dais, his hand on the hilt of his dagger, his whole face flaming with wrath.
"By my soul!" he cried, "what doth this fellow prate of? … Past love?
… Thou profane boaster! … how darest thou speak of love to the
Priestess of the Faith?"
Nir-jalis heeded him not. His eyes were fixed on Lysia, like the eyes of a tortured animal who vainly seeks for mercy at the hand of its destroyer. Step by step he came hesitatingly to the foot of her throne, . . and it was then that Theos perceived rear at hand a personage he immediately recognized,—the black scarlet-clad slave Gazia, who had brought Lysia's message to Sah-luma that same afternoon. He had made his appearance now so swiftly and silently, that it was impossible to tell where he had come from,—and he stood close to Nir-jalis, his muscular firms folded tightly across his chest, and his hideous mouth contorted into a grin of cruel amusement and expectancy. Absolute quiet reigned within the magnificent banquet hall, . . the music had ceased,—and not a sound could be heard, save the delicate murmur of the wind outside swaying the water-lilies on the moonlit lake. Every one's attention was centred on the unhappy young man, who with lifted head and rigidly clasped hands, faced Lysia as a criminal faces a judge, . . Lysia, whose dazzling smile beamed upon him with the brightness of summer sunbeams,—Lysia, whose exquisite voice lost none of its richness as she spoke his doom.
"By the vow which thou hast vowed to me, Nir-jalis—" she said slowly.. "and by thine oath sworn on the Symbolic Eye of Raphon".. here she touched the dreadful Jewel on her breast—"which bound thy life to my keeping, and thy death to my day of choice, I herewith bestow on thee the Chalice of Oblivion—the Silver Nectar of Peace! Sleep, and wake no more!—drink and die! The gateways of the Kingdom of Silence stand open to receive thee! … thy service is finished! …… fare-thee-well!"
With the utterance of the last word, she gave him the glittering cup she held. He took it mechanically,—and for one instant glared about him on all sides, scanning the faces of the attentive guests as though in the faint hope of some pity, some attempt at rescue. But not a single look of compassion was bestowed upon him save by Theos, who, full of struggling amazement and horror, would have broken out into indignant remonstrance, had not an imperative glance from Sah-luma warned him that any interference on his part would only make matters worse. He therefore, sorely against his will, and only for Sah-luma's sake, kept silence, watching Nir-jalis meanwhile in a sort of horrible fascination.
There was something truly awful in the radiant unquenchable laughter that lurked in Lysia's lovely eyes, . . something positively devilish in the grace of her manner, as with a negligent movement, she reseated herself in her crystal throne, and taking a knot of magnolia-flowers that lay beside her, idly toyed with their creamy buds, all the while keeping her basilisk gaze fixed immovably and relentlessly on her sentenced victim. He, grasping the lily-shaped chalice convulsively in his right hand, looked up despairingly to the polished dome of malachite, with its revolving globe of fire that shed a solemn blood-red glow upon his agonized young face, . . a smile was on his lips,—the dreadful smile of desperate, maddened misery.
"Oh, ye malignant gods!" he cried fiercely—"ye immortal Furies that made Woman for Man's torture, … Bear witness to my death! … bear witness to my parting spirit's malediction! Cursed be they who love unwisely and too well! … cursed be all the wiles of desire and the haunts of dear passion!—cursed he all fair faces whose fairness lures men to destruction! … cursed be the warmth of caresses, the beating of heart against heart, the kisses that color midnight with fire! Cursed be Love from birth unto death!—may its sweetness be brief, and its bitterness endless!—its delight a snare, and its promise treachery! O ye mad lovers!—fools all!" … and he turned his splendid wild eyes round on the hushed assemblage,—"Despise me and my words as ye will, throughout ages to come, the curse of the dead Nir-jalis shall cling!"