Into this court and across it, Sah-luma led his wondering guest, . . ascending a wide flight of steps, they entered a vast open hall, where the light poured in through rose-colored and pale blue glass, that gave a strange yet lovely effect of mingled sunset and moonlight to the scene. Here--reclining about on cushions of silk and velvet--were several beautiful girls in various attitudes of indolence and ease,--one laughing, black-haired houri was amusing herself with a tame bird which flew to and from her uplifted finger,--another in a half-sitting posture, played cup-and-ball with much active and graceful dexterity,--some were working at gold and silver embroidery,--others, clustered in a semicircle round a large osier basket filled with myrtle, were busy weaving garlands of the fragrant leaves,--and one maiden, seemingly younger than the rest, and of lighter and more delicate complexion, leaned somewhat pensively against an ebony-framed harp, as though she were considering what sad or suggestive chords she should next awaken from its responsive strings. As Sah-luma and Theos appeared, these nymphs all rose from their different occupations and amusements, and stood with bent heads and folded hands in statuesque silence and humility.
"These are my human rosebuds!" said Sah-luma softly and gayly, as holding the dazzled Theos by the arm he escorted him past these radiant and exquisite forms--"They bloom, and fade, and die, like the flowers thrown by the populace,--proud and happy to feel that their perishable loveliness has, even, for a brief while, been made more lasting by contact with my deathless poet-fame! Ah, Niphrata!" and he paused at the side of the girl standing by the harp--"Hast thou sung many of my songs to-day? ... or is thy voice too weak for such impassioned cadence? Thou art pale, . . I miss thy soft blush and dimpling smile,--what ails thee, my honey-throated oriole?"
"Nothing, my lord"--answered Niphrata in a low tone, raising a pair of lovely, dusky, violet eyes, fringed with long black lashes,--"Nothing,--save that my heart is always sad in thine absence!"
Sah-luma smiled, well pleased.
"Let it be sad no longer then!" he said, caressing her cheek with his hand,--and Theos saw a wave of rich color mounting swiftly to her fair brows at his touch, as though she were a white poppy warming to crimson in the ardent heat of the sun--"I love to see thee merry,--mirth suits a young and beauteous face like thine! Look you, Sweet!--I bring with me here a stranger from far-off lands,--one to whom Sah-luma's name is as a star in the desert!--I must needs have thy voice in all its full lusciousness of tune to warble for his pleasure those heart-entangling ditties of mine which thou hast learned to render with such matchless tenderness! ... Thanks, Gisenya," ... this as another maiden advanced, and, gently removing the myrtle-wreath he wore, placed one just freshly woven on his clustering curls, . . then, turning to Theos, he inquired--"Wilt thou also wear a minstrel-garland, my friend? Niphrata or Gisenya will crown thee!"