The woman turned her splendid, flashing orbs slowly upon him. A chill, steely glitter leaped from their velvety depths.
"Pray, Fabio, be heedful of your speech," said she with a quiver in her voice, curiously like the suppressed snarl of a tigress. "Most men are fools, like yourself, and by their utterance shall they be judged!"
Fabio broke out into boisterous mirth.
"And Theodora rules with a rod of iron. Even the Lord Basil is but a toy in her hands! Behold him,—yonder."
Basil had arisen, his hand on the hilt of his poniard. Theodora laid her white hand upon his arm.
"Nay—" she said sweetly, "this is a matter for myself to settle."
"A very anchorite," the mocking voice of Fabio rose above the silence.
A young noble of the Cætani tried to quiet him, but in vain:
"The Lord Basil is no monk."
"Wherefore then his midnight meditations in the devil's own chapel yonder, in which our fair Theodora officiates as Priestess of Love?"