For one instant a lurid anger blazed in her face,—the next her features hardened themselves into a rigidly cold expression of disdain, though her eyes widened with wrathful wonder. A low laugh broke from her lips.
"Ah!" she cried—"Art thou angel or demon that thou darest defy me? Thou shouldst be either or both, to array thyself in opposition against the High Priestess of Nagaya, whose relentless Will hath caused empires to totter and thrones to fall! HIS life a glory to the world? …" and she pointed to Sah-luma's recumbent figure with a gesture of loathing and contempt, . . "HIS? … the life of a drunken voluptuary? … a sensual egotist? … a poet who sees no genius save his own, and who condemns all vice, save that which he himself indulges in! A laurelled swine! … a false god of art! … and for him thou dost reject Me! … ah, thou fool!" and her splendid eyes shot forth resentful fire.. "Thou rash, unthinking, headstrong fool! thou knowest not what thou hast lost! Aye, guard thy friend as thou wilt,—thou dost guard him at thine own peril! … think not that he, . . or thou, … shall escape my vengeance! What!—dost thou play the heroic with me? … thou who art Man, and therefore NO hero? … For men are cowards all, except when in the heat of battle they follow the pursuit of their own brief glory! … poltroons and knaves in spirit, incapable of resisting their own passions! … and wilt THOU pretend to be stronger than the rest? … Wilt thou take up arms against thyself and Destiny? Thou madman!"—and her lithe form quivered with concentrated rage—"Thou puny wretch that dost first clutch at, and then refuse my love!—thou who dost oppose thy miserable force to the Fate that hunts thee down!—thou who dost gaze at me with such grave, child-foolish eyes! … Beware, . . beware of me! I hate thee as I hate ALL men! … I will humble thee as I have humbled the proudest of thy sex! ..—wheresoever thou goest I will track thee out and torture thee! … and thou shalt die—miserably, lingeringly, horribly,—as I would have every man die could I fulfil my utmost heart's desire! To-night, be free! … but to-morrow as thou livest, I will claim thee!"
Like an enraged Queen she stood,—one white, jewelled arm stretched forth menacingly,—her bosom heaving, and her face aflame with wrath, but Theos, leaning against Sah-luma's couch, heard her with as much impassiveness as though her threatening voice were but the sound of an idle wind. Only, when she ceased, he turned his untroubled gaze calmly and full upon her,—and then,—to his own infinite surprise she shivered and shrank backwards, while over her countenance flitted a vague, undefinable, almost spectral expression of terror. He saw it, and swift words came at once to his lips,—words that uttered themselves without premeditation.
"To-morrow, Lysia, thou shalt claim nothing!" he said in a still, composed voice that to himself had something strange and unearthly in its tone … "Not even a grave! Get thee hence! … pray to thy gods if thou hast any,—for truly there is need of prayer! Thou shalt not harm Sah-luma, . . his love for thee may be his present curse,—but it shall not work his future ruin! As for me, . . though canst not slay me, Lysia,—seeing that to myself I am dead already! … dead, yet alive in thought, . . and thou dost now seem to my soul but the shadow of a past Crime, . . the ghost of a temptation overcome and baffled! Ah, thou sweet Sin!" here he suddenly moved toward her and caught her hands hard, looking fearlessly the while at her flushed half-troubled face,—"I do confess that I have loved thee, . . I do own that I have found thee fair! … but now—now that I see thee as thou art, in all the nameless horror of thy beauty, I do entreat,".. and his accents sank to a low yet fervent supplication—"I do entreat the most high God that I may be released from thee forever!"
She gazed upon him with dilated, terrified eyes, … and he dimly wondered, as he looked, why she should seem to fear him?—Not a word did she utter in reply, . . step by step she retreated from him, . . her glittering, exquisite form grew paler and more indistinct in outline—and presently, catching at the gold curtain that divided the two pavilions, she paused…still regarding him steadfastly. An evil smile curved her lips, . . a smile of cold menace and derisive scorn, . . the iris-colored jewel on her breast darted forth vivid flashes of azure, and green and gray, . . the snakes in her hair seemed to rise and hiss at him, . . and then,—with an awful unspoken threat written resolvedly on every line of her fair features, . . she let the gold draperies fall softly,—and so disappeared, . . leaving him alone with Sah-luma! He stood for a moment half amazed, half perplexed,—then, drawing a deep breath, he pushed the clustering hair off his forehead with an unconscious gesture of relief. She was gone! … and he felt as though he had gained a victory over something, though he knew not what. The cold air from the lake blew refreshingly on his heated brow, . . and a thousand odors from orange-flowers and jessamine floated caressingly about him. The night was very still,—and approaching the opening of the tent, he looked out. There, in the soft sky gloom, moved the majestic procession of the Undiscovered Worlds seeming to be no more than bright dots on the measureless expanse of pure ether, . . there, low on the horizon, the yellow moon swooned languidly downwards in a bed of fleecy cloud,—the drowsy chirrup of a dreaming bird came softly now and again from the deep-branched shadows of the heavy foliage,—and the lilies on the surface of the lake nodded mysteriously among the slow ripples, like wise, white elves whispering to one another some secret of fairyland. And Sah-luma still slept, . . and still that puzzled and weary frown darkened the fairness of his broad brow, . . and, coming back to his side, Theos stood watching him with a yearning and sorrowful wistfulness. Gathering up the jewels that had fallen out of his dress, he replaced them one by one,—and strove to re-arrange the tossed and tumbled garb as best he might. While he was thus occupied his hand happened to touch the tablet that hung by a silver chain from the Laureate's belt,—he glanced at it, . . it was covered with fine writing, and turning it more toward the light, he soon made out four stanzas, perfectly rhymed and smoothly flowing as a well-modulated harmony. He read them slowly with a faint smile,—he recognized them as HIS OWN!—they were part of a poem he had long ago begun, yet have never finished! And now Sah-luma had the same idea! … moreover he had chosen the same rhythm, the same words! … well! … after all, what did it matter? Nothing, he felt, so far as he was concerned,—he had ceased to care for his own personality or interests,—Sah-luma had become dearer to him than himself!
His immediate anxiety was centered in the question of how to rouse his friend from the torpor in which he lay, and get him out of this voluptuous garden of delights, before any lurking danger could overtake him. Full of this intention, he presently ventured to draw aside the curtain that concealed Lysia's pavilion, . . and looking in, he saw to his great relief, that she was no longer there. Her couch of crushed roses scented the place with heavy fragrance, and the ruby lamp was still burning, . . but she herself had departed. Now was the time for escape!—thought Theos—now,—while she was absent,—now, if Sah-luma could be persuaded to come away, he might reach his own palace in safety, and once there, he could be warned of the death that threatened him through the treachery of the woman he loved. But would he believe in, or accept, the warning? At any rate some effort must be made to rescue him, and Theos, without more ado, bent above him and called aloud:
"Sah-luma! … Wake! Sah-luma!"
CHAPTER XX.
THE PASSAGE OF THE TOMBS.
Sah-luma stirred uneasily and smiled in his sleep.