“You will not accuse her! Timon! She was compelled. She was——”
“No, no. Has not the god himself justified her? Who am I to offer blame? But I saw her do it! And by Zeus, it was the bravest deed, yes, and the most intelligent that I ever saw in my life.”
“Oh,” breathed Nikander.
“At first I could not credit that she was doing it, even though she was pronouncing the oracle as no one had ever pronounced it—driving home its meaning, by Hermes—driving it home! Then I saw the martyr light in her face—the death light, expecting the god’s lightning stroke. Did you note that agonized look just before she fell?
“But she had done the deed. Done the thing that you and I, Nikander, couldn’t bring about with all our toil and effort.”
Nikander was too moved to speak.
“Ever since then,” went on Timon, “the girl’s genius has haunted me. Horrible, you know! Such genius to be wasted even though it be housed in a woman. There!” he ended, laughing. “You have my reasoning.”
Nikander’s gratitude beamed from his face. “The gods bless you,” he said, “for giving the girl her chance.”