s fell to the ground.

Then came Lucius and his wife, and all joined in pleasant gossip. Varro
spoke proudly of Rome, and Lucius of Britain, and the time sped on. The
young noble left, but Chios remained.

Nika was ill at ease, her mind was a storm, and, throwing a mantle over
her shoulders, she said playfully:

'Come, Chios; take me to the balcony, that we may breathe the fresh
night air.'

She was impatient to get at the mind of the Greek. Quick-sighted, she
had already read the mind of the Roman. What did she care? She would be
bold.

'Chios, why didst thou say thou wilt never wed? Is it really so?'

'Yes, Nika, it is true.'

'Chios, we have known each other long, and have been more than friends.
We have been like children of one mother! Thou hast ever spoken freely
and kindly to me, and I would ask thee one question--one little
question--that is all.'

'Say on, Nika.'

'Didst thou ever love?'

'I may have.'

'I thought so much,' replied she; 'and where is that love? Does it live
on, or is it--dead?'

'It lives, but I am trying to kill it.'

'Wouldst thou be a murderer, Chios?'

'No, I mean well.'

'Tell me thy secret, and I will bury it in the grave of my heart.
Whom--dost--thou--love?'

'I cannot tell thee, but she is not a Roman.'

'Then I _know_--it is Saronia. Let me lean upon thy arm, Chios. Lead me
within--the night is chill.'

CHAPTER VIII

PAYING THEIR VOWS

From morn to eve great songs of praise and adoration went up before the
shrine of Diana, and soft music echoed through the great Temple,
sometimes swelling like the martial notes of the Persian hosts when they
marched through the vales of Ionia to Abydos, and then sweet melodies
sank back into the faintest strains, like a weeping lute or the sighs of
a broken heart.

Those plaintive sounds suited one spirit, and that one was the
storm-clad soul of Saronia. She had seen her old master on his arrival
at Ephesus; he had done her no harm, and her heart went out towards him
that she might speak and thank him for his kindness. After all, she had
the true instinct of a woman, and must love something: she loved the
goddess, but she had a spiritual and a human existence, and both must
love. True, her nature was somewhat seared, battling as she had done for
existence. There was a time when a kiss, a simple kiss, would have
thrilled her very soul; but that was long ago. Since tho