With one supreme effort the woman gathered together her dying strength
sufficiently to enable her to thrust her hand into the folds of her
dress and draw forth a tablet and hold it out towards him.

Instinctively he relaxed his grip, and the witch cried out:

'Read! Read!'

He grasped the tablet, opened it, and saw the signature of Nika.

Endora fell, her face lying on the stony floor. He heeded her not, but,
with a face as death-like as that of the witch, glanced down the lines
of the tablet.

Then, with a moan such as is heard when the weary storm tells its sad
tale through the cypress-trees, he sat down and buried his face in his
hands.

For some time he remained in the same position, until a sigh came from
the prostrate woman.

He arose and went towards her, saying:

'Whatever may be thy sins, in this I am the sinner for bruising thee.'

He gave her wine, damped her furrowed, fevered brow, raised her from the
floor, and watched by her until she had fully regained consciousness.

She murmured:

'I do not blame thee. Were I a man, I would have done likewise. Endora
pities thee. Thou hast wedded a snake, and she has stung thee. What wilt
thou do?'

'Charge her.'

'And should she deny?'

'She shall be tried by the rites of the Virgin Cave of Hecate.'

He arose, and, throwing his mantle around him, strode out into the night
down the hillside to his home.

On his arrival, Nika met him with honeyed words and sweetest smiles, but
he passed her coldly, and went to his chamber--not to sleep. The room
seemed filled with choking air. He opened the window and let in a
cooling draught, and the moonlight, faint and low, stole softly across
the floor.

For a moment he rested, buried in thought, scarcely knowing what to do.
His face betrayed great passion. He arose, and paced the room until the
day dawned over the sea, when he fell upon a couch, and passed into a
dreamy sleep.

When the morning had fully come, he went out and breathed the cool
virgin air, but soon returned.

His wife met him again with all the ease that duplicity can command.

'And where hast thou been, Varro? Why so cold yesternight to thy loving
wife?'

'Nika, thou art false, false! What hast thou been doing whilst I
journeyed to Rome?'

'What dost thou mean?'

'Mean! Just what I say. I am not a man to bandy words. Thou art
unfaithful to me. Dost thou deny it?'

'I do. I swear by Jove I am guiltless! I have traducers, and they lie