Without presenting any serious obstacle, it merely indicated how far the prisoners might venture to go.  Whoever crossed it must expect to be struck down by an arrow from the wall.  This earthwork, it is true, menaced those held captive here, but they also owed it a debt of gratitude, for it shut from their eyes the horrible incidents on the sandy plain between the sea and the inland lake.

This spot was now made as light as day by the rays of the full moon which floated in the pure azure sky far above the black cloud mountains, like a white lotus flower on clear waters, and poured floods of silvery radiance upon the earth.

Eumedes commanded the Macedonians who formed his escort to remain at the fortress on the dune, and, pointing out Ledscha by a wave of the hand, he whispered to Hermon:  “By the girdle of Aphrodite! she is terribly beautiful!  For whom is the Medea probably brewing in imagination the poisoned draught?”

Then he gave the sculptor permission to promise her immunity from punishment if she would consent at least to explain the Gauls’ connection with the royal palaces; but Hermon strenuously refused to undertake this or a similar commission to Ledscha.

Eumedes had expected the denial, and merely expressed to his friend his desire to speak to the Biamite after his interview was over.  However refractory she might be, his mother’s intercession should benefit her.  Hermon might assure her that he, the commander, meant to deal leniently.  He pressed the artist’s hand as he spoke, and walked rapidly away to ascertain the condition of affairs in the other guardhouses.

Never had the brave artist’s heart throbbed faster in any danger than on the eve of this meeting; but it was no longer love that thrilled it so passionately, far less hate or the desire to let his foe feel that her revenge was baffled.

It was easy for the victor to exercise magnanimity, and easiest of all for the sculptor in the presence of so beautiful an enemy, and Hermon thought he had never seen the Biamite look fairer.  How exquisitely rounded was the oval, how delicately cut the profile of her face, how large were the widely separated, sparkling eyes, above which, even in the pale moonlight, the thick black brows were visible, united under the forehead as if for a dark deed to be performed in common!

Time had rather enhanced than lessened the spell of this wonderful young creature.  Now she rose from the ground where she had been crouching and paced several times up and down the short path at her disposal; but she started suddenly, for one of the Gauls bound to the posts, in whom Hermon recognised the bridge-builder, Lutarius, called her name, and when she turned her face toward him, panted in broken Greek like one overwhelmed by despair:  “Once more—­it shall be the last time—­I beseech you!  Lay your hand upon my brow, and if that is too much, speak but one kind word to me before all is over!  I only want to hear that you do not hate me like a foe and despise me like a dog.  What can it cost you?  You need only tell me in two words that you are sorry for your harshness.”