d people
had gathered together to witness a new play. Amongst them were Nika and
Chios.

'Dost thou like the play?' she asked. 'They tell me the tragedy was
wrought in Phoenicia, and has been played with great success in Sidon,
from thence to Cyprus, and now here. It pleases thee, Chios?'

'Yes, fairly so; and would do so more were it not that through it runs a
vein of suffering, making one wish he could fit disjointed elements so
properly together as to make the poor richer, the weak stronger, and the
mighty less tyrannical.'

'Chios, again thou art a dreamer. Thou shouldst have a planet all thine
own, and, after setting up thy kings governing each particular section
of thine orb, thou then shouldst sit enthroned above them all and play
the mighty demigod.'

'Nay, Nika, stay thy wit; thou makest sport of my poor sympathies.'

'Yes, yes; it is well, perchance, that thou shouldst bridle in my
tongue. But, after all, thou art too kind; there are those of meaner
dust who would build upon thy kindness until thou be but the hidden
foundation for their super-structure of selfishness. Look, for instance,
at that slave-girl of mine, Saronia the Sidonian, naturally haughty,
arrogant--if I were to free her, she would spit at me. No, no, a place
for everything. A serpent crawls the earth; let it crawl. Dost thou
know, Chios, methinks that girl, with her deep unfathomable eyes of
night-gloom, is not quite so innocent as one might imagine. I suspect
her----'

'Of what?'

'Of what? Why, the old story. She has a lover, and meets him
secretly--so speaks the rumour of our other household slaves. What
thinkest thou?'

'Think? Think it is a base slander on a defenceless maid. She is as pure
as the first dawn of day--a mighty spirit is she, as wild as the north
wind and as untamable as the winged lightning, but as chaste as the snow
on the mountains of Tmolus.'

'Thy words are so sweet for this scornful girl that surely the power of
her magical love encircles thy heart and will eat out thy life. What
next? Wilt thou offer Lucius, my father, a ransom and wed her?'

'Nay, Nika, what thou sayest is not so, may not be; nevertheless, am I
not free to love anything the gods have created and blessed?'

'Yes, yes, go thy ways; but, for all that, it is more seemly for an
eagle to mate with an eagle than with a screech-owl. Thou wilt see her
anon; thy pet slave waiteth without for her mistress. Now go to her for
me and bid her come; a