Sah-luma stirred uneasily and smiled in his sleep.

"More wine!" he muttered thickly--"More, . . more I say! What! wilt thou stint the generous juice that warms my soul to song? Pour, . . pour out lavishly! I will mix the honey of thy luscious lips with the crimson bubbles on this goblet's brim, and the taste thereof shall be as nectar dropped from paradise! Nay, nay! I will drink to none but Myself,--to the immortal bard Sah-luma,--Poet of poets,--named first and greatest on the scroll of Fame! ... aye, 'tis a worthy toast and merits a deeper draught of mellow vintage! Fill...fill again!--the world is but the drunken dream of a God Poet and we but the mad revellers of a shadow day! 'Twill pass-- 'twill pass, . . let us enjoy ere all is done,--drown thought in wine, and love, and music, . . wine and music..."

His voice broke in a short, smothered sigh,--Theos surveyed him with mingled impatience, pity, and something of repulsion, and there was a warm touch of indignant remonstrance in his tone when he called again: "Sah-luma! Rouse thee, man, for very shame's sake! Art thou dead to the honor of thy calling, that thou dost wilfully consent to be the victim of wine-bibbing and debauchery? O thou frail soul! how hast thou quenched the heavenly essence within thee! ... why wilt thou be thus self-disgraced and all inglorious? Sah-luma! Sah- luma!"--and he shook him violently by the arm--"Up,--up, thou truant to the faith of Art! I will not let thee drowse the hours away in such unseemliness, . . wake! for the night is almost past,-- the morning is at hand, and danger threatens thee,--wouldst thou be found here drunk at sunrise?"

This time Sah-luma was thoroughly disturbed, and with a half uttered oath he sat up, pushed his tumbled hair from his brows, and stared at his companion in blinking, sleepy wonderment.

"Now, by my soul! ... thou art a most unmannerly ruffian!" he said pettishly, yet with a vacant smile,--"what question didst thou bawl unmusically in mine ear? Will I be drunk at sunrise? Aye! ... and at sunset too, Sir Malapert, if that will satisfy thee! Hast thou been grudged sufficient wine that thou dost envy me my slumber? What dost thou here? ... where hast thou been?".. and, becoming more conscious of his surroundings he suddenly stood up, and catching hold of Theos to support himself, gazed upon him suspiciously with very dim and bloodshot eyes ... "Art thou fresh from the arms of the ravishing Nelida? ... is she not fair? a choice morsel for a lover's banquet? ... Doth she not dance a madness into the veins? ... aye, aye!--she was reserved for thee, my jolly roysterer! but thou art not the first nor wilt thou be the last that hath revelled in her store of charms! No matter!"-- and he laughed foolishly ... "Better a wild dancer than a tame prude!" Here he looked about him in confused bewilderment..




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