* * * * * *
“Gods of the storm-cloud, drifting darkly yonder,
Point fiery hands and mock me as I wander;
Gods of the forest glimmer out upon me,
Shrink back and shun me.
“Gods, let them follow!—gods, for I defy them!
They call me, mock me, but I gallop by them;
If they would find me, touch me, whisper to me,
Let them pursue me!”
He was interrupted in the song by a smothered cry from El-Râmi, and looking round, startled, he saw his brother standing up and staring at him with something of mingled fear and horror. He came to an abrupt stop, his hands resting on the piano-keys.