"Come, come, Sah-luma!" he said at last, gently, yet with persuasive earnestness.. "Come away from this place, . . the feast is over,--the fair ones are gone, . . why should we linger? Thou art half-asleep,--believe me 'tis time thou wert home and at rest. Lean upon me, ... so! that is well!"--this, as the other rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched heavily against him, . . "Now let me guide thee,--though of a truth I know not the way through this wondrous woodland maze, . . canst tell me whither we should turn? ... or hast thou no remembrance of the nearest road to thine own dwelling?"-Thus speaking, he managed to lead his stupefied companion out of the tent into the cool, dewy garden, where, feeling somewhat refreshed by the breath of the night wind blowing on his face, Sah-luma straightened himself, and made an absurd attempt to look exceedingly dignified.
"Nay, an thou wilt depart with such scant ceremony"--he grumbled peevishly--"get thee thence and find out the road as best thou mayest! ... why should I aid thee? For myself I am well contented here to remain and sleep,--no better couch can the Poet have than this violet-scented moss"--and he waved his arm with a grandiloquent gesture,--"no grander canopy than this star- besprinkled heaven! Leave me,--for my eyes are wondrous heavy, and I would fain slumber undisturbed till the break of day! By my soul, thou art a rough companion! ..." and he struggled violently to release himself from Theos's resolute and compelling grasp.. "Where wouldst thou drag me?"
"Out of danger and the shadow of death!" replied Theos firmly.. "Thy life is threatened, Sah-luma, and I will not see thee slain! If thou canst not guard thyself, then I must guard thee! ... Come, delay no longer, I beseech thee!--do I not love thee, friend?--and would I urge thee thus without good reason? O thou misguided soul! thou dost most ignorantly court destruction, but if my strength can shield thee, thou shalt not die before thy time!"
And he hurried his pace, half leading, half carrying the reluctant poet, who, however, was too drowsy and lethargic to do more than feebly resent his action,--and thus they went together along a broad path that seemed to extend itself in a direct line straight across the grounds, but which in reality turned and twisted about through all manner of perplexing nooks and corners,--now under trees so closely interwoven that not a glimpse of the sky could be seen through the dense darkness of the crossed boughs,--now by gorgeous banks of roses, pale yellow and white, that looked like frozen foam in the dying glitter of the moon,--now beneath fairy- light trellis work, overgrown with jasamine, and peopled by thousands of dancing fire-flies,--while at every undulating bend or sharp angle in the road, Theos's heart beat quickly in fear lest they should meet some armed retainer or spy of Lysia's, who might interrupt their progress, or perhaps peremptorily forbid their departure. Nothing of the kind happened, or seemed likely to happen,--the splendid gardens were all apparently deserted,--and not a living soul was anywhere to be seen. Presently through an archway of twisted magnolia stems, Theos caught a glimpse of the illuminated pool with the marble nymph in its centre which had so greatly fascinated him on his first arrival,--and he pressed forward eagerly, knowing that now they could not be very far from the gates of exit. All at once the tall figure of a man clad in complete armor came into sudden view between some heavily drooping boughs,--it stood out for a second, and then hurriedly disappeared, muffling its face in a black mantle as it fled. Not, however, before Theos had recognized those dark, haughty features, those relentless brows, and that, stern almost lurid smile! ... and with a quick convulsive movement he grasped his companion's arm.