“Father, father!”

“We are exactly where we were, save for the hold thou hast established over the Emperor, which is of course invaluable.  I cannot but feel that Heaven is good when I reflect how easily thou mightest have thrown thyself away upon a courtier.  Now there is a much bolder game to play, which, relying on the protection of Providence, I feel half disposed to attempt.  Thou mightest betray Helladia.”

“Deliver my friend to the tormentors!”

“Then,” pursued Photinius, without hearing her, “thy claim on the Emperor’s gratitude is boundless, and if he has any sense of what is seemly—­and he is what they call chivalrous—­he will make thee his lawful consort.  I father-in-law of an Emperor!  My brain reels to think of it.  I must be cool.  I must not suffer myself to be dazzled or hurried away.  Let me consider.  Thus acting, thou puttest all to the hazard of the die.  For if Helladia should deny everything, as of course she would, and the Emperor should foolishly scruple to put her to the rack, she might probably persuade him of her innocence, and where wouldst thou be then?  It might almost be better to be beforehand, and poison Helladia herself, but I fear there is no time now.  Thou hast no evidence but her threats, I suppose?  Thou hast not caught her tampering with poisons?  There can of course be nothing in writing.  I daresay I could find something, if I had but time.  Canst thou counterfeit her signature?”

But long ere this Euprepia, dissolved in tears, her bosom torn by convulsive sobs, had become as inattentive to her parent’s discourse as he had been to her interjections.  Photinius at last remarked her distress:  he was by no means a bad father.

“Poor child,” he said, “thy nerves are unstrung, and no wonder.  It is a terrible risk to run.  Even if thou saidest nothing, and Helladia under the torture accused thee of having been privy to her design, it might have a bad effect on the Emperor’s mind.  If he put thee to the torture too—­but no! that’s impossible.  I feel faint and giddy, dear child, and unable to decide a point of such importance.  Come to me at daybreak to-morrow.”

But Euprepia did not reappear, and Photinius spent the day in an agony of expectation, fearing that she had compromised herself by some imprudence.  He gazed on the setting sun with uncontrollable impatience, knowing that it would shine on the Imperial banquet, where so much was to happen.  Basil was in fact at that very moment seating himself among a brilliant assemblage.  By his side stood a choir of musicians, among them Euprepia.  Soon the cup was called for, and Helladia, in her masculine dress, stepped forward, darting a glance of sinister triumph at her friend.  Silently, almost imperceptibly to the bulk of the company, Euprepia glided forward, and hissed rather than whispered in Helladia’s ear, ere she could retire from the Emperor’s side.

“Didst thou not say that if thou couldst discover her who had wronged thee, thou wouldst wreak thy vengeance on her, and molest Basil no further?”