‘But it was not locked.’

’Yes; for I myself, angry at a negligence which might expose the bronzes in the peristyle to the mercy of any robber, turned the key, took it away, and—­as I did not see the proper slave to whom to give it, or I should have rated him finely—­here it actually is, still in my girdle.’

’Oh, merciful Bacchus!  I did not pray to thee in vain, after all.  Let us not lose a moment!  Let us to the garden instantly—­she may yet be there!’

The good-natured Callias consented to assist the slave; and after vainly searching the chambers at hand, and the recesses of the peristyle, they entered the garden.

It was about this time that Nydia had resolved to quit her hiding-place, and venture forth on her way.  Lightly, tremulously holding her breath, which ever and anon broke forth in quick convulsive gasps—­now gliding by the flower—­wreathed columns that bordered the peristyle—­now darkening the still moonshine that fell over its tessellated centre—­now ascending the terrace of the garden—­now gliding amidst the gloomy and breathless trees, she gained the fatal door—­to find it locked!  We have all seen that expression of pain, of uncertainty, of fear, which a sudden disappointment of touch, if I may use the expression, casts over the face of the blind.  But what words can paint the intolerable woe, the sinking of the whole heart, which was now visible on the features of the Thessalian?  Again and again her small, quivering hands wandered to and fro the inexorable door.  Poor thing that thou wert! in vain had been all thy noble courage, thy innocent craft, thy doublings to escape the hound and huntsmen!  Within but a few yards from thee, laughing at thy endeavors—­thy despair—­knowing thou wert now their own, and watching with cruel patience their own moment to seize their prey—­thou art saved from seeing thy pursuers!

’Hush, Callias!—­let her go on.  Let us see what she will do when she has convinced herself that the door is honest.’

’Look! she raises her face to the heavens—­she mutters—­she sinks down despondent!  No! by Pollux, she has some new scheme!  She will not resign herself!  By Jupiter, a tough spirit!  See, she springs up—­she retraces her steps—­she thinks of some other chance!—­I advise thee, Sosia, to delay no longer:  seize her ere she quit the garden—­now!’

‘Ah! runaway!  I have thee—­eh?’ said Sosia, seizing upon the unhappy Nydia.  As a hare’s last human cry in the fangs of the dogs—­as the sharp voice of terror uttered by a sleep-walker suddenly awakened—­broke the shriek of the blind girl, when she felt the abrupt gripe of her gaoler.  It was a shriek of such utter agony, such entire despair, that it might have rung hauntingly in your ears for ever.  She felt as if the last plank of the sinking Glaucus were torn from his clasp!  It had been a suspense of life and death; and death had now won the game.

’Gods! that cry will alarm the house!  Arbaces sleeps full lightly.  Gag her!’ cried Callias.