“No,” she said firmly.  “I am grateful, even for the smallest kindness; I have not often met with disinterested generosity.  But she had an end in view—­I must say it once for all.  She wanted to make use of me to bring shame on Marcus and grief on his mother.  You surely must know it; for why should you have thought me too vile to sing with you if you did not believe that I was a good-for-nothing hussy, and quite ready to do your dead grandmother’s bidding?  Everybody, of course, looked down upon us all and thought we must be wicked because we were singers; but you knew better; you made a distinction; for you invited Agne to come to your house and sing with you.—­No, unless you wish to insult me, say no more about my owing the dead lady a debt of gratitude!”

Gorgo’s eyes fell; but presently she looked up again and said: 

“You do not know what that poor soul had suffered.  Mary, her son’s widow, had been very cruel to her, had done her injuries she could never forgive—­so perhaps you are right in your notion; but all the same, my grandmother had a great liking for you—­and after all her wish is fulfilled, for Marcus has found you and he loves you, too, if I am not mistaken!”

“If you are not mistaken!” retorted Dada.  “The gods forefend!—­Yes, we have found each other, we love each other.  Why should I conceal it?”

“And Mary, his mother—­what has she to say to it?” asked Gorgo.

“I do not know,” replied Dada abashed.

“But she is his mother, you know!” cried Gorgo severely.  “And he will never—­never—­marry against her will.  He depends on her for all that he has in the world.”

“Then let her keep it!” exclaimed Dada.  “The smaller and humbler the home he gives me the better I shall like it.  I want his love and nothing more.  All—­all he desires of me is right and good; he is not like other men; he does not care for nothing but my pretty face.  I will do whatever he bids me in perfect confidence; and what he thinks about me you may judge for yourself, for he is going to put me in the care of his tutor Eusebius.”

“Then you have accepted his creed?” asked Gorgo.  “Certainly I have,” said Dada.

“I am glad of that for his sake,” said the merchant’s daughter.  “And if the Christians only did what their preachers enjoin on them one might be glad to become one.  But they make a riot and destroy everything that is fine and beautiful.  What have you to say to that—­you, who were brought up by Karnis, a true votary of the Muses?”

“I?” said Dada.  “There are bad men everywhere, and when they rise to destroy what is beautiful I am very sorry.  But we can love it and cherish it all the same.”