base impostor, a vile renegade, a villainous
dealer in drugs and charms? Oh! no, no, no! if only for her sake, her
sweet, sweet sake, my end shall be like my great life. As the sun I
rose, like him I set. Still the world is warm with my bright fame, and
my last hour shall not disgrace my noon, stormy indeed, but glorious!'

Honain took the torch from the niche, and advanced to the grate. It
was not fastened: he drew it gently open, and led forward a veiled and
female figure. The veiled and female figure threw herself at the feet of
Alroy, who seemed lost to what was passing. A soft lip pressed his hand.
He started, his chains clanked.

'Alroy!' softly murmured the kneeling female.

'What voice is that?' wildly exclaimed the Prince of the Captivity. 'It
falls upon my ear like long-forgotten music. I'll not believe it. No!
I'll not believe it. Art thou Schirene?'

'I am that wretched thing they called thy bride.'

'Oh! this indeed is torture! What impalement can equal this sharp
moment? Look not on me, let not our eyes meet! They have met before,
like to the confluence of two shining rivers blending in one great
stream of rushing light. Bear off that torch, sir. Let impenetrable
darkness cover our darker fortunes.'

'Alroy.'

'She speaks again. Is she mad, as I am, that thus she plays with agony?'

'Sire,' said Honain advancing, and laying his hand gently on the arm of
the captive, 'I pray thee moderate this passion. Thou hast some faithful
friends here, who would fain commune in calmness for thy lasting
welfare.'

'Welfare! He mocks me.'

'I beseech, thee, Sire, be calm. If, indeed, I speak unto that great
Alroy whom all men fear and still may fear, I pray remember, 'tis not
in palaces or in the battle-field alone that the heroic soul can conquer
and command. Scenes like these are the great proof of a superior soul.
While we live, our body is a temple where our genius pours forth its
godlike inspiration, and while the altar is not overthrown, the deity
may still work marvels. Then rouse thyself, great Sire; bethink thee
that, a Caliph or a captive, there is no man within this breathing world
like to Alroy. Shall such a being fall without a struggle, like some
poor felon, who has naught to trust to but the dull shuffling accident
of Chance? I, too, am a prophet, and I feel thou still wilt conquer.'

'Give me my sceptre, then, give me the sceptre! I speak to the wrong
brother! It was not thou, it was not thou