Instantly she was wide awake, and, gazing on me with tender eyes, “Yea, thou hast slept, Harmachis.”
“How long, then, have I slept?”
“Nine hours.”
“And thou hast held thy place there, at my side, for nine long hours?”
“Yes, it is nothing; I also have slept—I feared to waken thee if I stirred.”
“Go, rest,” I said; “it shames me to think of this thing. Go rest thee, Charmion!”
“Vex not thyself,” she answered; “see, I will bid a slave watch thee, and to wake me if thou needest aught; I sleep there, in the outer chamber. Peace—I go!” and she strove to rise, but, so cramped was she, fell straightway on the floor.
I can scarcely tell the sense of shame that filled me when I saw her fall. Alas! I could not stir to help her.
“It is naught,” she said; “move not, I did but catch my foot. There!” and she rose, again to fall—“a pest upon my awkwardness! Why—I must be sleeping. ‘Tis well now. I’ll send the slave;” and she staggered thence like one overcome with wine.
And after that, I slept once more, for I was very weak. When I woke it was afternoon, and I craved for food, which Charmion brought me.