The illiterate high-born rabble of Rome did not catch the drift of the Patrician's speech, but the pallor on Theodora's cheeks deepened.
Roxané alone turned to the speaker.
"And the simile?" she asked in her sweet siren-voice, tremulous with the desire to clash with her more beautiful rival.
Benilo shrugged his shoulders, but he winced under Theodora's deadly gaze.
"The simile?" he replied with a jarring laugh. "It is this, that incest and adultery are as old as the Athenian asses, that never died, and that the Sphinx eventually drowned herself in the Aegean Sea."
Theodora made no reply, but relapsed into her former state of thoughtfulness. As she turned from Benilo, her eyes met those of Roxané, and again the two women flashed defiance at each other.
Again the laughter of the revellers rose, louder than before.
"By the Cross," shouted the poet, "the Queen of Love will take the veil."
"Has she chosen the convent, whose nuns she will cause to be canonized by her exemplary life and glorious example," jeered Roxané.
"We shall sing a thousand Aves and buy tapers as large as her unimpeached virtue!" cried another of the women.