As, full of this thought, he was looking after the generals who were just leaving the tent, he did not notice that two eyes were fixed upon him with a peculiar expression.
They were the eyes of Antonina.
The incidents which she had just witnessed had produced a strangely mixed impression on her mind. For the first time in her life she had seen her idol, her husband, entangled in the nets of a priest without the least power to extricate or help himself, and saved only by the superior strength of this terrible Roman.
At first the shock to her pride in her husband had filled her with dislike of the victor. But this feeling did not last, and involuntarily, as the great superiority of Cethegus unfolded itself before her, admiration took the place of vexation. She felt only one thing: Belisarius had eclipsed the Church, and Cethegus had eclipsed Belisarius. To this feeling was added the anxious desire that this man might never become the enemy, but always remain the ally of her husband.
In short, Cethegus had made a serious intellectual conquest of the wife of Belisarius; and not only that, but he was at once made aware of it.
The beautiful and usually so confident woman came towards him with downcast eyes. He looked up; she blushed violently and offered him a trembling hand.
"Prefect of Rome," she said, "Antonina thanks you. You have rendered great services to Belisarius and the Emperor. We will be good friends."
Procopius, who had remained in the tent, beheld this proceeding with astonishment.
"My Odysseus out-charms the sorceress Circe," he thought.
But Cethegus saw in a moment that the soul of Antonina humbled itself before him, and what power he thus gained over Belisarius.