w thee.'

'Who am I?'

'He whom they call Chios the Greek, the Ephesian artist, and----'

'Go on, woman, do not fear!'

'The lover of Saronia.'

'Thou art mad.'

'No. Would that I had been born such!'

'How dost thou know my name?'

'Know thy name! I inquired for it after thou didst take away the slave
girl Saronia, when she leant against the pillar outside the great
theatre, waiting the bidding of her haughty mistress Nika. My curse rest
on Nika!'

'Silence! Curse her not.'

'Say on, Chios: what dost thou want of me?'

'Nothing.'

'Then pass thy way and leave me as thou didst find me, unless thou, too,
would whip me like a cur for resting against thy piece of marble.'

'Nay, woman; I will not go until I help thee. Here is a golden
piece--another and another. Take them all; I have more. Go thou and get
food, and hope on. Thou art earth's side of the great threshold, and may
yet do well with the remnant of thy life.'

'No, no; I know the faith. Thou art wrong. The cursed of Hecate are
doomed!'

'Listen, woman! Thou knowest Saronia?'

'Ah! ah! Thou canst not leave that name. I knew I was right. Thou lovest
her?'

'Silence, I tell thee again! Thou art more profane than I imagined.
Think you I am perilous enough to venture the curse of hell by daring to
love a priestess of Hecate?'

'Yes. Thou art of the mould to dare anything for love. Not only to risk
the curse of hell, but to wear it as thou wearest that ribbon around thy
neck, the ribbon which suspends the silver shrine Saronia placed upon
thy breast when thou didst slumber as the dead.'

'Witch as thou art, how dost thou know of this?'

'Magic does not aid me in this case. I saw her do it.'

'Saw Saronia--do--it?'

'Yes, I saw her.'

'Thou liest; it is thy dreadful sorcery!'

'Nay, nay, not so. I saw her enter thy gateway to escape a band of
drunken ruffians. I stood by this very pillar where I often stand. I
knew Saronia, and followed to protect, if needs be, and hid behind the
myrtle-trees until she entered. Then I gazed within, saw her bend over
thy sleeping form and put her sweet face close to thine, saw her take
the trinket from her bosom, kiss it, and place it on thy breast. Then
again did she stoop over, and drank in one long draught of thy
breath--thy life, as if to mingle soul with soul.'

'Hast thou spoken of this to any other?'

'No.'

'Darest thou?'

'I will not.'

'And why so true?'

'Because if ever the fire is