“I should think so!  But she need not be ashamed even of her villa, and they must spend every summer there, I will manage that.  If that poor, dear fellow Narses does not escape with his life—­for two years of slavery are a serious matter—­then I should be able. . . .”

“To alter your will?  Not a bad idea; but there is no hurry for that; and now, you really must go.”

“Yes, yes, in a minute.  Surely I may have time to speak.—­I, for my part, know of no one whom I would sooner put in the place of Narses. . . .”

“Than Orion and Heliodora?  Certainly, I have no objection; but now. . . .”

“Well, perhaps it is wicked to think of a man who may still be alive as numbered with the dead.—­At any rate the poor boy cannot go back to his legion. . . .”

“On no consideration.  But, Martina. . . .”

“To-morrow morning Orion must urge our case on the Arab . . . .”

“If he does not go away.”

“Will you bet that she fails to keep him.”

“I should be a fool for my pains,” laughed Justinus.  “Do you ever pay me when I win?—­But now, joking apart, you must go and see what they are about.”

And this time she obeyed.  She would have won her bet; for Orion, who had remained unmoved by his sister-in-law’s letter, by the warning voice of the faith of his childhood, by the faithful council of his honest servant Nilus, or by the senator’s convincing arguments—­had yielded to Heliodora’s sweet blandishments.

How ardently had her loving heart flamed up, when she saw him so deeply agitated at the sight of her!  With what touching devotion had she sunk into his arms; how humbly-half faint with sweet sorrow and sweeter ecstasy—­had she fallen at his feet, and clasped his knees, and entreated him, with eyes full of tears of adoring rapture, not to leave to-day, to wait only till tomorrow, and then, if he would, to tread her in the dust.  Now—­now when she had just found him again after being worn out with pining and longing-to part now, to see him rush on an uncertain fate—­it would kill her, it would certainly be her death!  And when he still had tried to resist she had rushed into his arms, had stopped his lips with burning kisses, and whispered in his ear all the flattering words of love he once had held so dear.

Why had he never seriously tried to win her, why had he so soon forgotten her?  Because she, who could assert her dignity firmly enough with others, had abandoned herself to him unresistingly after a few meetings, as if befooled by some magician’s spell.  The precious spoil so easily won had soon lost its value in his eyes.  But to-day the fire which had died out blazed up again.  Yes, this was the love he craved, he must have!  To be loved with entire and utter devotion, with a heart that thought only of him and not of itself, that asked only for love in return for love, that did not fence itself round with caution and invoke the aid of others for