In a place of honour set aside for her sat the High Priestess of the Temple of Diana. Over her head was a canopy of gold, and great ma.s.ses of fragrant flowers were piled up in tiers behind her.

She wore a dress of silk dazzling in whiteness, with stars of gold. On her head rested a jewelled crown, and her forehead blazed with the diamond moon crescent. Her face was severely beautiful; her eyes were fixed gazing into illimitable s.p.a.ce, bearing an expression akin to pain, plainly telling she was there in her official capacity and found no enjoyment.

Two attendant priestesses stood by with fans of richest make; another held the insignia of the High Priestess, whilst many others, all beautiful girls of Ionia, waited for her whispered bidding.

The eyes of the n.o.ble-born Roman Nika instinctively wandered in the direction of the priestess, and were riveted on the sublime splendour of Saronia.

Nika feared, yet desired, to exchange glances. She was strangely fascinated, but the woman she hated with such deadly hate saw her not, or appeared to be ignorant of her presence.

This aroused a deeper feeling in the daughter of Lucius, and she disliked Saronia more intensely. But for fear of those dark, mysterious eyes she would have by this time been using her as a point for criticism.

The Proconsul wondered why she was so silent, and ventured to say:

'Seest thou the great Saronia? Is she not a mighty being? And fancy, she, above all others, the saviour of the life of Chios! What a glorious thing is power, and charity to use it!'

Then for the first time did she speak of her, saying:

'Art thou too in love?'

'Dearest Nika, explain.'

'Explain? I mean what I say. The brilliancy of Saronia dazzles, shall I say, unhinges the mind of Varro? Remember, do not forget, thou admirest a woman who was once my slave.'

'True; I understand it all, and wonder at thy speech.'

'Thou needst not. Men are all alike; they worship every beautiful woman--Paris a Helen, Antony a Cleopatra, and Varro a Saronia, whilst I, for my own part, see in her only a deep, designing woman, part tiger, part serpent. The tiger hath a lovely sleek body with a furious heart; the serpent for its creeping artfulness is a byword for deceit. Do not get within her fatal circle, or she will sting thee to the very core, and then devour thee. I hate her! She has robbed me of my peace, and now, with deep conceit and h.e.l.lish pride, she deigns not to turn her head this way. Oh that I had the power to curse her!'

'Fear not, Lady Nika; she will not capture. Thine eyes of blue are sufficient magnets to hold me. Besides, she is bound to chast.i.ty, and is as cold as moonlight on a snow-clad mountain.'

'Yes; and thou mayest add, "In her bosom is a hidden fire like an ice-capped volcano with a burning heart." Beware, beware of Saronia! she has two natures, extreme in both. Is Chios here?'

'Yes, Nika; he has just entered.'

'Canst thou point him out amongst the thousands?'

'He sits by the arena-gate.'

'I wonder why he is there. Ah, now I see him! He recognises! I will raise this crimson oleander to my lips, and greet him with a smile. I have a motive; do not be jealous, Varro. Wait!'

Just then the eyes of Saronia turned, and she saw the girl salute Chios, and a darkness like storm-clouds on the top of the mountain spread over the face of the priestess.

Nika looked defiantly--for a moment only; the withering glance of the Temple virgin blanched the Roman's cheeks with fear.

A great shout went up from the mult.i.tude; a man of sober mien was brought into the arena armed with a dagger only. Proclamation said this troublesome Christian would fight for his life and faith with one of the fiercest lions of Nubia. He was aged, and took little notice of the proceedings. The people said it was a murder, and not a fight. Even Nika pitied and Varro wondered.

Presently a messenger came to the Proconsul, and handed to him a message. He read it hastily, and answered 'Yes.'

'What news?' said Venusta.

'A request only from some young athlete offering to do battle for yon poor aged man. It gladdens me; we shall see better fighting. The old man can offer no resistance.'

'Who offers?' said Nika.

'I know not. Some courageous fellow, well paid by the Christians, I presume.'

They had not long to wait. The fighter stepped forward, cast a hasty glance around, bowed towards where Saronia sat, then to the audience.

For a moment the people were speechless. Then a cry arose: 'Chios! n.o.ble Chios!'

The Proconsul half arose in his seat by way of protestation, as if he would forbid. 'Twas too late. At that instant a lion was loosed, and rushed into the arena.

Chios stood unmoved. The beast hesitated for a moment, the light striking his flaming eyes. Then, with a roar which reached afar, he crouched, he sprang, but missed his prey. Uttering discontent, he lashed his sides with fury, and sprang again; but the Greek was too quick for him, and a loud shout of applause went up from the mighty concourse.

'Well done, Chios!' resounded from every side.

One person only was unmoved--one only of that vast a.s.sembly was calm. On the face of Saronia was the calmness of death. Her eyes followed the infuriated brute, and when she caught its glance it drooped its head and pawed the earth.

The third attack, and man and beast rolled over in mortal combat. For a while nothing could be ascertained for the dust which arose. Suddenly the lion fell, with a rivulet of blood issuing from his heart.

Chios arose from the ground, covered with the life-stream of his foe.

Then great shouts of acclaim rent the skies.

'Well fought!' cried they. 'Long live Chios of Ephesus!' resounded through the mighty building.

'Chios deserves a crown of gold,' said the Proconsul.

A perfect reaction set in, occasioned by the heroic act of the Greek.

Those who were loud in protestation turned like a summer wind from south to west. All antipathy had fled. The manliness portrayed, risking his life for another, brought full reward. Even the great Saronia approved the act, and admired the man.

Chios took little heed of it all. He quietly slipped aside, and went to his beloved studio. There he always felt happy.

And now he rested, musing upon the past.

'I have not succeeded in my mission,' said he, 'but it shall be accomplished.'

Outside his gate was a poor-looking aged man, inquiring the way to the studio of the great artist.

'Yonder through the myrtle-trees it stands,' replied a pa.s.ser-by; 'but do not intrude. Let him rest. He is weary from doing battle in the arena on behalf of a worn-out Christian. Do not trouble him for alms. If thou art hungry, here is a trifle to buy bread and fruit.'

'Friend, I am not a beggar; I am he for whom he fought. I must see him.'

'Well, go thy way; thou hast good need to thank him.'

Up the path, through the rows of trees, up to the marble entrance, noiselessly moved the aged man, and gently tapped at the door.

Chios arose and opened it, saw who was there, and cried: