Theodora's eyes endeavored to pierce the inscrutable mask before her. The ironical curtness of the question annoyed her.
"Your opinion of me does little honor to your wisdom," she said after a pause.
"A foul wound festers equally beneath silk and sack-cloth," came the dark reply.
"How know you that I desire relief from this imaginary malady?"
The Oriental gave a shrug.
"Why does Theodora come to the haunts of the Persian? Why does she ask him to mock and delude her, as if it were his custom to make dupes of those who appeal to him?"
"And are they not your dupes?" Theodora interposed, her face a deeper pallor than before.
"Of that you shall judge after I have answered your questions," Hormazd returned darkly. "There are but two things in life that will prompt a woman like Theodora to seek aid of one like myself."—
"You arouse my curiosity!"
"Disappointment in power—or love!"