ght of me, whom, from where she stood, she could scarcely
have seen before. Of a sudden her face grew doubtful and troubled, like
to that of one who has just received some hurt. She saw the ornament
about my neck. She turned pale and had she not gripped the arm of the
man beside her, would, I think, have fallen. Then her eyes caught mine,
and Fate had us in its net.

She leaned forward, gazing, gazing, all her soul in those dark eyes,
and I, too, gazed and gazed. The great cathedral vanished with its
glittering crowds, the sound of chanting and of feet that marched died
from my ears. In place of these I saw a mighty columned temple and two
stone figures, taller than pines, seated on a plain, and through the
moonlit silence heard a sweet voice murmuring:

"Farewell. For this life, farewell!"

Now we were near to each other, now I was passing her, I who might not
stay. My hand brushed hers, and oh! it was as though I had drunk a cup
of wine. A spirit entered into me and, bending, I whispered in her ear,
speaking in the Latin tongue, since Greek, which all knew, I did not
dare to use, "_Ave post secula!_" Greeting after the ages!

I saw her bosom heave; yes, and heard her whisper back:

"_Ave!_"

So she knew me also.

CHAPTER VI

HELIODORE

That night there was feasting at the palace, and I, Olaf, now known as
Michael, as a convert was one of the chief guests, so that for me there
was no escape. I sat very silent, so silent that the Augusta frowned,
though she was too far off to speak to me. The banquet came to an end at
last and before midnight I was free to go, still without word from the
Empress, who withdrew herself, as I thought in an ill-humour.

I sought my bed, but in it knew little of sleep. I had found her for
whom during all the long years I had been searching, though I did not
understand that I was searching. After the ages I had found her and she
had found me. Her eyes said it, and, unless I dreamed, her sweet voice
said it also.

Who was she? Doubtless that Heliodore, daughter of Magas, the prince of
whom the Bishop Barnabas had spoken to me. Oh! now I understood what
he meant when he spoke of another necklace like to that I wore, and yet
would explain nothing. It lay upon the breast of Heliodore, Heliodore
who was such a one as he wished that I might wed. Well, certainly I
wished it too; but, alas! how could I wed, who was in Irene's power,
a toy for her to play with or to break? And how wo