Glad that the conversation was thus interrupted, for he did not feel capable of arguing with the Prefect, Petros said, with a grin:
"I wish you joy of such an interruption."
"Yes, for your own sake," answered Cethegus, smiling; and left the room.
"You shall one day repent your sarcasm, haughty man!" thought the Byzantine.
In the hall--which received the name of Jupiter from a beautiful statue, sculptured by Glycon of Athens--Cethegus found a woman, clad richly in the Gothic costume. On his entrance, she threw back the cowl of her brown mantle.
"Princess Gothelindis!" cried the Prefect in surprise. "What leads you to me?"
"Revenge!" she answered, in a hoarse voice, and advanced towards him.
Her features were sharp, but not plain; she would even have been called beautiful, but that her left eye was utterly destroyed, and the whole of her left cheek disfigured by a long scar. The wound seemed to bleed afresh as her cheeks flushed while pronouncing the angry word. Such deadly hatred shone from her grey eye, that Cethegus involuntarily retreated.
"Revenge?" he asked. "On whom?"
"On--of that later. Forgive that I disturb you," she added, composing herself. "Your friend Petros of Byzantium is with you, is he not?"