“A pleasant night to you, and may Aphrodite and all the Loves be favorable!”

“Irene’s drachma!” muttered Klea to herself, as the chariot rolled away.  The sweet form of her sister rose before her mind; she recalled the hour when the girl—­still but a child—­had entrusted it to her, because she lost everything unless Klea took charge of it for her.

“Who will watch her and care for her now?” she asked herself, and she stood thinking, trying to defend herself against the wild wishes which again began to stir in her, and to collect her scattered thoughts.  She had involuntarily avoided the beam of light which fell across the road from the tavern-window, and yet she could not help raising her eyes and looking along it, and she found herself looking through the darkness which enveloped her, straight into the faces of two men whose gaze was directed to the very spot where she was standing.  And what faces they were that she saw!  One, a fat face, framed in thick hair and a short, thick and ragged beard, was of a dusky brown and as coarse and brutal as the other was smooth, colorless and lean, cruel and crafty.  The eyes of the first of these ruffians were prominent, weak and bloodshot, with a fixed glassy stare, while those of the other seemed always to be on the watch with a restless and uneasy leer.

These were Euergetes’ assassins—­they must be!  Spellbound with terror and revulsion she stood quite still, fearing only that the ruffians might hear the beating of her heart, for she felt as if it were a hammer swung up and down in an empty space, and beating with loud echoes, now in her bosom and now in her throat.

“The young gentleman must have gone round behind the tavern—­he knows the shortest way to the ’tombs.  Let us go after him, and finish off the business at once,” said the broad-shouldered villain in a hoarse whisper that broke down every now and then, and which seemed to Klea even more repulsive than the monster’s face.

“So that he may hear us go after him-stupid!” answered the other.  “When he has been waiting for his sweetheart about a quarter of an hour I will call his name in a woman’s voice, and at his first step towards the desert do you break his neck with the sand-bag.  We have plenty of time yet, for it must still be a good half hour before midnight.”

“So much the better,” said the other.  “Our wine-jar is not nearly empty yet, and we paid the lazy landlord for it in advance, before he crept into bed.”

“You shall only drink two cups more,” said the punier villain.  “For this time we have to do with a sturdy fellow, Setnam is not with us now to lend a hand in the work, and the dead meat must show no gaping thrusts or cuts.  My teeth are not like yours when you are fasting—­even cooked food must not be too tough for them to chew it, now-a-days.  If you soak yourself in drink and fail in your blow, and I am not ready with the poisoned stiletto the thing won’t come off neatly.  But why did not the Roman let his chariot wait?”