Theos sighed involuntarily,--but forcing a smile, let the subject drop and held his peace, while Sah-luma, taking up the thread of his poetical narrative, went on reciting. When the story began to ripen toward its conclusion he grew more animated, ... rising, he paced the room as he declaimed the splendid lines that now rolled gloriously one upon another like deep-mouthed billows thundering on the shore,--his gestures were all indicative of the fervor of his inward ecstasy,--his eyes flashed,--his features glowed with that serene, proud light of conscious power and triumph that rests on the calm, wide brows of the sculptured Apollo,--and Theos, leaning one arm in a half-sitting posture, contemplated him with a curious sensation of wistful eagerness and passionate pain, such as might be felt by some forgotten artist mysteriously permitted to come out of his grave and wander back to earth, there to see his once-rejected pictures hung in places of honor among the world's chief treasures.
A strange throb of melancholy satisfaction stirred his pulses as he reflected that he might now, without any self-conceit, at least ADMIRE the poem!--since he had decided that was no longer his, but another's, he was free to bestow on it as much as he would of unstinting praise! For it was very fine,--there could be no doubt of that, whatever Zabastes might say to the contrary,--and it was not only fine, but intensely, humanly pathetic, seeming to strike a chord of passion such as had never before been sounded,--a chord to which the world would be COMPELLED to listen,--yes,--COMPELLED! thought Theos exultingly,--as Sah-luma drew nearer and nearer the close of his dictation ... The deep quiet all around was so heavy as to be almost uncomfortable in its oppressiveness,--it exercised a sort of strain upon the nerves ...
Hark! what was that? Through the hot and silent air swept a sullen surging noise as of the angry shouting of a vast multitude,--then came the fast and furious gallop of many horses,--and again that fierce, resentful roar of indignation, swelling up as it seemed from thousands of throats. Moved, all three at once, by the same instinctive desire to know what was going on, Theos, Sah-luma, and Zabastes sprang from their different places in the room, and hurried out on the marble terrace, dashing aside the silken awnings as they went in order the better to see the open glimpses of the city thoroughfares that lay below. Theos, leaning far out over the western half of the balustrade, was able to command a distant view of the great Square in which the huge white granite Obelisk occupied so prominent a position, and, fixing his eyes attentively on this spot, saw that it was filled to overflowing with a dense mass of people, whose white-raimented forms, pressed together in countless numbers, swayed restlessly to and fro like the rising waves of a stormy sea.