"Ay," said Eudemius, still gently. "I have wished that."
Varia considered a long moment, and he knew that her eyes were on him.
"Why was I born?" she asked.
Eudemius turned his head away.
"Because thy mother loved me," he said, low and harshly.
"Because—my mother—loved thee!" Varia repeated. "Now that is strange! Did ever any one love thee?"
Eudemius started. Then he laughed.
"Habet!" he exclaimed, in the language of the arena when a gladiator is down; and laughed again. "Ay, child; once one loved me, and once I loved. Thou canst not credit such softness in me? Well, I do not blame thee; but it is truth."
"I believe," said Varia, "for thou hast told me truth before, to-night. If thou hadst said my father loved me, I should never have believed thy word again, but thou gavest me truth for the truth I gave to thee. I am a fool, and sometimes it is given to fools to know the truth."
"And therein to be wiser than the sane," Eudemius muttered. "And that is truth also." He looked at her a moment with something awakened in his face.