"Kill me!" he moaned piteously, feebly pointing to the sheathed dagger in the other's belt. "In mercy! ... Kill me! ... One thrust! ... release me! ... this agony is more than I can bear, ... Kill ... Kill. ... !"
His voice died away in an inarticulate, gasping cry,--and Theos stared down upon him in dizzy fear and horror! For...HE HAD SEEN THIS SAME NIR-JALIS DYING THUS CRUELLY BEFORE! Oh God! ... where, --where had this tragedy been previously enacted? Bewildered and overcome with unspeakable dread, he drew his dagger--he would at least, he thought, put the tortured sufferer out of his misery, ... but scarcely had his weapon left the sheath, when Lysia's clear, cold voice exclaimed: "Disarm him!" and with the silent rapidity of a lightning-flash, Gazra glided to his side, and the steel was snatched from his hand. Full of outraged pride and wrath, he sprang up, a torrent of words rushing to his lips, but before he could utter one, two slaves pounced upon him, and holding his arms, dexterously wound a silk scarf tight about his mouth.
"Be silent!" whispered some one in his ear,--"As you value your life and the life of Sah-luma,--be silent!"
But he cared nothing for this warning, . . reckless of consequences, he tore the scarf away and breaking loose from the hands that held him, made a bound toward Lysia ... here he paused. Her eyes met his languidly, shedding a sombre, mysterious light upon him through the black shower of her abundant hair, ... the evil glitter of the great Symbolic Gem she wore fixed him with its stony yet mesmeric luster ... a delicious smile parted her roseate lips,--and breaking off a magnolia-bud from the cluster she held, she kissed and gave it to him...
"Be at peace, good Theos!" she said in a low, tender tone, . . "Beware of taking up arms in the defence of the unworthy, . . rather reserve thy courage for those who know how best to reward thy service!"
As one in a trance he took the flower she offered,--its fragrance, subtle and sweet, seemed to steal into his veins. and rob his manhood of all strength, ... sinking submissively at her feet he gazed up at her in wondering wistfulness and ardent admiration, . . never was there a woman so bewilderingly beautiful as she! What were the sufferings of Nir-jalis now? ... what was anything compared to the strangely enervating ecstasy he felt in letting his eyes dwell fondly on the fairness of her face, the whiteness of her half-veiled bosom, the delicate, sheeny dazzle of her polished skin, the soft and supple curves of her whole exquisite form, . . and spell-bound by the witchery of her loveliness, he almost forgot the very presence of her dying victim. Occasionally indeed, he glanced at the agonized creature where he lay huddled on the ground in the convulsive throes of his dreadful death- struggle,--but it was now with precisely the same quiet and disdainful smile as that for which he had momentarily hated Sah- luma! There was a sound of singing somewhere,--singing that had a mirthful under-throbbing in it, as though a thousand light-footed fairies were dancing to its sweet refrain! And Nir-jalis heard it! ... dying inch by inch as he was, he heard it, and with a last superhuman effort forced himself up once more to his feet, ... his arms stiffly outstretched, . . his anguished eyes full of a softened, strangely piteous glory.