“That has to do with Justinian,” said Crispin hastily; “you must ask him for information. After all, Maurice, you had better wait and see how things turn out before you cross swords with Caliphronas.”
“Ah! you think, then, we will cross swords?”
“I fancy it is extremely probable. This Helena will be an apple of discord, as was her predecessor of Troy. But, however much you two men fight for her, remember it is the lady herself who decides whom she will take.”
“If she is the woman I judge her to be from her pure face, she will never take that scamp of a Greek.”
“Oh ho! that is as much as to say she will take you, my Lord Conceit; but never mind Helena just now. We have to get into the good graces of Justinian, or else”—
“Well?” asked Maurice, seeing Crispin paused significantly; “what will happen?”
“I can’t tell yet; but, after all, why anticipate evil?”
“Crispin, you are as ambiguous as a Delphic oracle.”
“And about as doubtful,” retorted the poet, laughing. “But here we are at the Acropolis.”
“Well, I’m darned!” observed Gurt in astonishment; and his exclamation of surprise was certainly pardonable, for no one would have expected to find so splendid a building in this lonely island of the Ægean Sea.