ther, who drew the
sword against oppression and violence, was robbed of liberty, and your
brother-in-law, in payment for his honest courage, met an early death.
Is the story which is told of you here true? I heard that soon after the
poor fellow's burial the slaves in the brick-kiln refused to obey his
widow. There were a dozen rebellious brick-moulders, and you--one can
forgive you much for it--you, the weak girl----"

"I am not weak," interrupted Ledscha proudly. "I could have taught three
times twelve of the scoundrels who was master. Now they obey my sister,
and yet I wish I had stayed in Tennis. Our Taus," she continued in a
more gentle tone, "is still so young, and our mother died when she was
a little child; but I, fool, who should have warned her, left her alone,
and if she yielded to Hermon's temptations the fault is mine, wholly
mine."

During this outburst the light of the fire, which old Tabus had fed with
fresh straw and dry rushes, fell upon the face of the agitated girl. It
revealed her thoughts plainly enough, and, pleased with the success of
his warning, Bias exclaimed: "And Ledscha, you, too, will not grant him
that from which you would so gladly have withheld your sister. So I will
go and tell my master that you refuse to give him another appointment."

He had confidently expected an assent, and therefore started indignantly
at her exclamation: "I intend to do just the contrary." Yet she eagerly
added, as if in explanation: "He must give me an account of himself, no
matter where, and, since it can not be to-day, to-morrow at latest."

The slave, disappointed and anxious, now tried to make her understand
how foolish and hard to accomplish her wish was, but she obstinately
insisted upon having her own way.

Bias angrily turned his back upon her and, in the early light of the
moon, walked toward the shore, but she hastened after him, seized his
arm and, with imperious firmness, commanded: "You will stay! I must
first know whether Hermon really means to leave Tennis so soon."

"That was his intention early this morning," replied the other,
releasing himself from her grasp. "What are we to do here longer, now
that his work is as good as finished?"

"But when is he going?" she urged with increased eagerness.

"Day after to-morrow," was the reply, "in five, or perhaps even in six
days, just as it suits him. Usually we do not even know to-day what
is to be done to-morrow. So long as the Alexandrian re