But already her mood had changed and her face had resumed its habitual expression of inscrutable repose.
"Is it the gods or the devil who sway and torture us and mock at our helplessness?" she turned to the Oriental, then, without waiting his reply, she concluded with a searching glance that seemed to read his very heart.
"Report speaks true of you. Unknowingly, unwittingly you have pointed the way. Farewell!"
Long after she had disappeared Hormazd stared at the spot where her swiftly retiring form had been engulfed by the darkness. Then, weighing the purse, which she had left as an acknowledgment of his services, and finding it sufficiently heavy to satisfy his avarice, the Persian stood for a time wrapped in deep thoughts.
"That phantom at least I could not evoke!" he muttered to himself. "Who dares to cross the path of Hormazd?"
The thunder seemed to answer, for a crash that seemed to split the seven hills asunder caused the house to rock as with the force of an earthquake.
With a shudder the Persian extinguished the fire in the brazier and retreated to his chamber, while outside thunder and lightning and rain lashed the summer night with the force of a tropical hurricane.
[CHAPTER IV]
PERSEPHONÉ
