"Nay," said Eldris again. "I think—" she spoke slowly, as though the words were impelled—"I think that no one loves him. Rather is he looked on with fear and hate."
"Then must he rear his head in some fashion above the herd," said Chloris, and laughed at the uncomprehension in Eldris's eyes.
But with the mention of Nicanor, remembrance of his direction returned anew to Eldris, seduced for a moment by sure promise of safety.
"He bade me go to this Nicodemus, and I dare not do otherwise," she said distressfully. "Last night I was searching for the place. If he were to come and find me not there—"
"So, he will be a runaway also?" said Chloris, lightly. And at Eldris's distress—"Fear not, foolish! Should not all slaves stand together? Body of Bacchus! Did they do so, there would shortly be no slaves! But that is as it must be. As for Nicodemus, know you what place his wine-shop is? A drinking den where violent men gather to brawl and gamble. No fit one, truly, for a maid! Rather, stay you here, and when this unloved comrade of yours arrives, why, I'll hear of it, and you shall know."
Eldris hesitated and lost her game. Chloris clapped her hands. Sada entered, with a glance full of curiosity.
"Take the girl to the kitchen," Chloris gave command. "Tell the cooks she will serve as scullery maid and naught else. And hark you, Sada girl! No word of last night's doings, or it will go hard with you. Now go, the two of you."
She waved them away, and they went out and left her sitting there.
"She is strange!" said Eldris, pondering deeply.
"Ay, strange!" Sada echoed. "Us she rules with a rod of iron, and yet—we love her, every one."