--fills his heart with high hopes of a blissful
future--so changes his soul that he can cherish no thought but of
her--so alters the whole tenor and purpose of his existence that he even
welcomes slavery as a precious boon because it brings him under the same
roof with her. And then--some other fancy having crossed her mind--or an
absence of a week or two having produced forgetfulness--she insults him
with a cruel mockery of self-unworthiness as her sole apology for
perfidy.'

'Nay,' she exclaimed, half glad of an excuse to quarrel with him. 'If
you would rather have it otherwise, think, then, that I have never loved
you as I should, even though I may have imagined that I did.'

'Go on,' he said, seeing that she hesitated.

'I know,' she continued, 'that in other days you have had my words for
it, uttered, indeed, in sympathy and truth, as I then felt them. But I
was a simple girl, then, Cleotos. The sea before me and the mountains
behind bounded all my knowledge of the world. The people whom I saw were
but few. The tastes I had were simple. Is it wonderful that I should
have listened to the first one who spoke to me of love, and should have
imagined that my heart made response to him? But now, now, Cleotos--'

'Now, what?' he exclaimed. 'Would you say that now you have seen the
world better and think differently? What is there in all that you have
since known that should change you? Is it that the sight of war and
tumult--of burning towns and bleeding captives--of insolent soldiers and
cruel taskmasters can have made you less in favor with our own native,
vine-covered retreat, with its neighborhood of simple peasantry? Or
would you say that since then you have met others whom you can love
better than me? Whom, indeed, have you seen but weary prisoners like
myself, or else unpitying conquerors whose love would be your shame? You
blush, Leta! Pray the gods that it be not the latter! Struggle sternly
with yourself to realize that you are merely for the moment fascinated
by the unaccustomed splendors of this swarming city; and that after its
first brightness has worn off from your dazzled eyes, your soul may
return to its native, pure simplicity and innocence, and--and to me.'

'Speak not so, Cleotos,' she responded. 'My eyes are not dazzled with
any splendors; but for all that, our ways now and forever lie in
different directions. We are slaves, and can give little heed to our
affections. Our only course must be for e