"Is it pleasant for thee here, carissima?"
"Pleasant," answered she, in a scarcely audible voice.
And she closed her eyes, as if sleep had seized her. Silence followed. Only the breeze moved with a rustling the branches of the pistachio-tree; and on the earth around the litter were quivering golden spots, formed of sun-rays, which broke through between the leaves; locusts were hissing among the rocks.
The sick woman opened her eyes after a moment.
"Caius," said she, "is it true that in this country a philosopher has appeared, who cures the sick?"
"They call such men prophets here," answered Cinna. "I have heard of him, and I wished to bring him to thee, but it turned out that he was a false miracle-worker. Besides, he blasphemed against the sanctuary and the religion of this country; hence the procurator has delivered him to death, and this very day he is to be crucified."
Antea dropped her head.
"Time will cure thee," said Cinna, seeing the sadness reflected on her face.
"Time is at the service of death, not of life," answered she, slowly.
And again silence ensued; round about the golden spots quivered continually; the locusts hissed still more loudly, and from the crannies of the cliff little lizards crept out onto stones, and sought sunny places.