On the great, smoke-blackened metal plate over which those mystics passed who had to walk through fire, there lay plenty of charcoal, and yonder hung robes of every description.  The next moment she had thrown off her own, in order to blacken her glistening white limbs and her face with soot.  Among the sewing materials which the lady Euryale had laid beside the scrolls was a pair of scissors.  These the girl seized, and with quick, remorseless hand cut off the long, thick locks that were her brother’s and her lover’s delight.  Then she chose out a chiton, which, reaching only to her knees, gave her the appearance of a boy.  Her breath came fast and her hands trembled, but she was already on her way to the secret door through which she should flee from this place of horror, when she came to a standstill, shaking her head gently.  She had looked around her, and the wild disorder she was leaving behind her in the little room went against her womanly feelings.  But though this feeling would not in itself have kept her back, it warned her to steady her mind before leaving the refuge her friend had accorded to her.  Thoughtful, and accustomed to have regard for others, she realized at once how dangerous it might prove to Euryale if these unmistakable traces of her presence there should be discovered by an enemy.  The kindness of her motherly friend should not bring misfortune upon her.  With active presence of mind she gathered up her garments from the floor, swept the long locks of hair together, and threw them all, with the sewing and the basket that had contained the food, into the stove on the hearth, and set them alight.  The scissors she took with her as a weapon in case of need.

Then, laying the books of the gospels beside the other manuscripts, and casting a last look round to assure herself that every sign of her presence had been destroyed, she addressed one more prayer to the tender Comforter of the afflicted, who has promised to save those that are in danger.

She then opened the secret door.

With a beating heart, and yet far more conscious of the desire to save her lover while there was yet time than of the danger into which she was rushing headlong, she flitted down the hidden staircase as lightly as a child at play.  So much time had been lost in clearing the room—­and yet she could not have left it so!

She had not forgotten where to press, so that the heavy stone which closed the entrance should move aside; but as she sprang from the last step her lamp had blown out, and blackest darkness concealed the surface of the smooth granite wall which lay between her and the street.

What if, when she got outside, she should be seen by the lictors or spies?

At this thought fear overcame her for the first time.  As she felt about the door her hands trembled and beads of perspiration stood upon her brow.  But she must go to her wounded lover!  When any one was bleeding to death every moment might bring the terrible “too late.”  It meant Diodoros’s death if she did not succeed in opening the granite slab.