"Hear me, Kama. Soon to the bay of Sebenico will come a Greek ship, commanded by my brother. Make the high priest send thee to Pi-Uto; we shall flee thence to northern Greece, to a place which has never yet seen a Phoenician."
"It will see them if I hide there," interrupted the priestess.
"Should a hair fall from thy head," whispered the raging Greek, "I swear that Dagon, that all the Phoenicians here will lose their heads, or die in the stone quarries. They will learn what a Greek can do."
"But I say to thee," answered Kama, in the same tone, "that until I collect twenty talents I will not leave here. I have now only eight."
"Where wilt Thou get the other twelve?"
"Sargon and the viceroy will give them."
"I will let Sargon give, but not the prince."
"Foolish Lykon, dost thou not know why that stripling pleases me a little? He reminds me of thee."
The Greek was perfectly quieted.
"Well, well," muttered he, "I understand that when a woman has the choice between the heir to the throne and a man with my voice I have no need to tremble. But I am jealous and violent, so I beg thee to let him approach thee as little as possible."