Here she paused,--a questioning, keen under-glance flashed from beneath her dark lashes, . . he, however, with pained, wistful eyes raised steadfastly to hers, gave no sign of apology or contrition for the disconnected strangeness of his recent outburst. Only he became gradually conscious of an inward, growing calm,--as though the Divine Voice that had once soothed the angry waves of Galilee were now hushing his turbulent emotions with a soft "Peace be still!" She watched him closely, . .and all at once apparently rendered impatient by his impassive attitude, she came coaxingly toward him, and laid one soft hand on his shoulder.
"Canst thou not be happy, Theos?" she whispered gently--"Happy as other men are, when loved as thou art loved?"
His upturned gaze rested on the glittering serpents' heads that crowned her dusky tresses,--then on the great Eye that stared watchfully between her white breasts. A strong tremor shook him, and he sighed.
"Happy as other men are, when they love and are deceived in love!"--he said.. "Yes, even so, Lysia,--I can be happy!"
She threw one arm about him. "Thou shalt not be deceived"--she murmured quickly,--"Thou shalt be honored above the noblest in the realm, . . thy dearest hopes shall be fulfilled, . . thy utmost desires shall be granted, . . riches, power, fame,--all shall be thine,--IF THOU WILT DO MY BIDDING!"
She uttered the last words with slow and meaning emphasis. He met her eager, burning looks quietly, almost coldly,--the curious numb apathy of his spirit increased, and when he spoke, his voice was low and faint like the voice of one who speaks unconsciously in his sleep.
"What canst thou ask that I will not grant?" he said listlessly.. "Is it not as it was in the old time,--thou to command, and I to obey? ... Speak, fair Queen!--how can I serve thee?"
Her answer came, swift and fierce as the hiss of a snake: "KILL SAH-LUMA!"
The brief sentence leaped into his brain with the swift, fiery action of some burning drug,--a red mist rose to his eyes,-- pushing her fiercely from him, he started to his feet in a bewildered, sick horror. KILL SAH-LUMA! ... kill the gracious, smiling, happy creature whose every minute of existence was a joy,--kill the friend he loved,--the poet he worshipped! ... Kill him! ... ah God! ... never! ... never! ... He staggered backward dizzily,--and Lysia with a sudden stealthy spring, like that of her favorite tigress, threw herself against his breast and looked up at him, her splendid eyes ablaze with passion, her black hair streaming, her lips curved in a cruel smile, and the hateful Jewel on her breast seeming to flash with ferocious vindictiveness.