* * * * *

Cornelia did not know at what watch of the night she awoke; awoke, not suddenly, but slowly, as consciousness stole over her that something was happening.  It was a dark, cloudy night, yet a strange red light was glinting faintly through the windows and making very dim panels on the rugs of the floor.  There was a bare gleam of fire from the charcoal in the portable metal stove that stood in a remote corner of the room to dispel the chill of night.  Artemisia was stirring in her sleep, and saying something—­probably in a one-sided dream-dialogue.  Cornelia opened her eyes, shut them again; peeped forth a second time, and sat up in bed.  There was a confused din without, many voices speaking at once, all quite unintelligible, though now and then she caught a few syllables of Greek.  The din grew louder and louder.  At the same time, as if directly connected with the babel, the strange light flamed up more brightly—­as if from many advancing torches.  Cornelia shook the sleep from her eyes, and flung back the coverlets.  What was it?  She had not yet reached the stage of feeling any terror.

Suddenly, drowning all lesser noise, came the blows of a heavy timber beating on the main door of the villa.

Crash! and with the stroke, a torrent of wild shouts, oaths, and imprecations burst forth from many score throats.

Crash!  The slaves sleeping near the front door began to howl and shout.  The great Molossian hound that stood watch was barking and snapping.  The Gallic maid sprang from her pallet by Cornelia’s door, and gave a shrill, piercing scream.  Artemisia was sitting up on her bed, rubbing her eyes, blinking at the strange light, and about to begin to cry.  Cornelia ran over the floor to her.

“A!  A! what is going to happen!” whimpered the girl.

“I do not know, philotata"[164] said Cornelia in Greek, putting her hand on Artemisia’s cheek; “but don’t cry, and I’ll soon find out.”

  [164] Dearest one.

Crash! and at this the door could be heard to fall inward.  Then, with yells of triumph and passion, there was a great sweep of feet over the threshold, and the clang of weapons and armour.  Cornelia found herself beginning to tremble.  As she stepped across the room, she passed before her largest mirror, whereon the outside light was shining directly.  She saw herself for an instant; her hair streaming down her back, her only dress her loose white tunic, her arms bare, and nothing on her throat except a string of yellow amber beads.  “And my feet are bare,” she added to herself, diverted from her panic by her womanly embarrassment.  She advanced toward the door, but had not long to wait.  Down below the invaders had burst loose in wild pillage, then up into the sleeping room came flying a man—­Phaon, his teeth chattering, his face ghastly with fright.

“Domina! domina!” and he knelt and seized Cornelia’s robe.  “Save, A! save!  We are undone!  Pirates!  They will kill us all! Mu! mu! don’t let them murder me!”