"When our devotions had come to a close," Roxana turned to the speaker, "Theodora sent Persephoné to conduct the saintly stranger to her bowers. And then the unlooked for happened. The saintly stranger fled, like Joseph of old. He did not even leave his garb."
There was an outburst of uproarious mirth.
"But do these things ever happen?" fluted the Poet Bembo.
"In the realms of fable," shouted the Lord of Norba.
"Now men have become wiser."
"And women more circumspect."
Theodora turned to the speaker.
"Perchance traditions have been merely reversed."
"Some recent events do not seem to support the theory," drawled the Grand Chamberlain.
Theodora regarded him with her strange inscrutable smile.