"Is his employer's property," said Thrasabad, who had entered the box again.
"So--this wonder--belongs to--you?" exclaimed Thrasaric, wild with envy.
"Yes, and to you as soon as you wish."
Thrasaric emptied a huge goblet of wine.
"No, no," he said; "at least not so--not by my will. She is a free woman, no slave, whom I could give away, even if I should ever desire it."
"Only resign your right to her. It will be easy--for money--to find a reason for annulling the marriage."
"She is a Catholic, he an Arian," whispered Astarte.
"Of course! That will do! And then merely let me--Gelimer cannot always strike down her abductor."
"No! Silence! Not so! But--we might throw dice! Then the dice, chance, would have decided--not I! Oh, I can, I can--think no longer! If I throw higher, each shall keep what he has; if I throw lower, I will--no, no! I will not! Let me sleep!" And overcome by the wine, in spite of the uproar around him, he dropped his huge rose-garlanded head on both arms, which lay folded on the marble front of the box.
Modigisel and Astarte exchanged significant glances.