"You have come late. Very late."

Manlius, with suppressed fury, answered:

"Is love a fruit that becomes overripe if it waits long?"

Glyceria looked at Manlius in horror.

"What is the matter with you that you speak to me of love?"

"Did you not summon me that we might whisper together of rapture, bliss, and sweet delights?"

"Once your words would have given me pleasure; now horror seizes me when you speak in this way."

"Are you not convinced that your beauty has such magic power that every man who beholds you forgets every woman he has ever seen?"

replied Manlius, half drawing his sword from its sheath.

Glyceria looked into the youth's face as though she were gazing into impenetrable darkness, and asked:

"Even the one who is lying dead at this moment?"

Manlius started back, his breath failed, his face grew corpselike in its pallor. He strove to p.r.o.nounce Sophronia's name, but his lips would not form the word, and staggering back, he was obliged to lean against a pillar.

Glyceria went toward him, her staring eyes fixed upon his face as if she wished to read his inmost soul.

"Manlius Sinister!" she said calmly. "My dreams have told me that you will kill me, and I know that the hand beneath your chlamys is clutching your sword-hilt. That will be no grief to me. My anguish is that you see in me your promised wife's murderess."

Manlius sighed heavily, and a secret shudder shook his whole frame. In a voice that seemed to come from the grave, he asked:

"How was she killed? Was she torn by wild beasts? Or did greedy flames devour her tender body? Speak, Hetaera. Tell me clearly and minutely how she was tortured to death. I _will_ hear."

"She was not dragged to the scenes of torture, but to Carinus'

orgies."

"Ah!" shrieked Manlius in unutterable fury, covering his face. Then, removing his hands, he said quietly: "Go on; omit nothing. Describe step by step the outrage, and in what way my idol was dragged through the mire. Speak!"

"Nothing of that kind happened. A Roman woman, who wished to rescue her, exchanged garments with her in the prison; and when this plan was baffled, she concealed a dagger in Sophronia's girdle and the girl killed herself before any man's hand touched her."

Tears streamed from the young soldier's eyes; his sword fell from his hand.

"Ye G.o.ds, bless that Roman woman for the sake of the dagger. Do you not know who it was?"

"She does not wish you to be told."

Manlius drew a long breath, as if relieved from a heavy burden.

"I thank you for these tidings."

There was something terrible in this grat.i.tude.

"The danger is not yet over," Glyceria began again. "Carinus, whose pallid face was sprinkled with the martyr's blood, sank back upon his couch half fainting, and through his trembling soul flashed the thought: If a woman could die in this way, how will her father or her promised husband--kill! No one knew Sophronia; but my father's presence in Rome has already attracted attention, and although he makes no public search, people are beginning to suspect that the dead girl was his daughter. You will both be summoned before Carinus to-morrow; he will ask if you can recognise a dead woman who was found murdered in the Christians' prison, and Sophronia will be shown to you. Be hard-hearted at that moment, Manlius; let no tears fill your eyes when you behold this corpse. Say that you do not know it, wear an indifferent face; for if you betray yourself, you will lose your head."

"I am to wear an indifferent face," said Manlius, with dilated eyes, "and not recognise her when she lies dead before me? I am to say that I have never seen her?"

"Do you imagine that Carinus would suffer a man to live whose promised wife had killed herself on the Caesar's account?"

"You are right," said the knight, bitterly. "Manlius will learn to dissimulate."

He burst into a terrible laugh.

Glyceria sank on her knees before him, and offering him her beautiful bosom, stammered, sighing:

"And now--take your sword--begin with me."

Manlius smiled.

"So your dreams have predicted that I shall kill you? You are beautiful, Glyceria; really marvellously beautiful. Is it true, as people say, that Carinus loves you ardently?"

"Still more ardently do I hate him. Why do you ask?"

"Because I should like to know whether you have ever rendered Carinus happy by your favour?"

"Never even with a smile."

"And yet he would gladly give years of his life for a single night with you."

"Ah, by Styx! If I should grant him a night, it would be an eternal one!" cried Glyceria, drawing herself to her full height while her face crimsoned.

Manlius went up to her and clasped her hand.

"Now you see, Glyceria, that your dreams deceived you, for I shall not kill you. No, I shall not kill you, but will make you my wife."

Glyceria drew back her hand in horror.

"Manlius, this is mockery, and bitterer than death."

"No, it is only love. I love you."

"Manlius, do not kill me thus, not thus. Rather with the sharp sword."

"I love you. If I loved your sister, I now see her features in your face; and when grief for her loss tortures me, I must fly to you to find consolation. I do not believe aught of all the world says of you; I will take the past from you and make you what your sister has been.

I will lead you back to your father, and he will bestow upon you the blessing he gave your sister. I will endow you with everything that was her property. You will wear her simple garments and even a.s.sume her name, and I will call you my Sophronia."

Glyceria, trembling violently, escaped from the youth's arms as he drew her toward him with gentle violence, and with glowing cheeks and panting bosom, fled without answering these bewildering words.

Manlius, looking after her, muttered under his breath:

"Cannot I play the hypocrite too?"