“He is right,” she thought. “I have called him the lord of my life. Should I then fail to fulfil his first command? No—I will do what he directs—happen what may.”
When Doris entered to fetch the empty hydria, Clytie stood before her with flushed cheeks and a glance which expressed firm resolution.
“When everything is quiet in the house,” she said, “I shall fly through the garden. You will go with me.”
Doris stared at her in open-mouthed amazement; the empty hydria she had taken dropped from her hand and broke with a rattling noise on the tiled floor.
“May the gods avert the warning!” she murmured, as she picked up the pieces.
But Clytie did not allow herself to be disturbed.
“When father and mother are asleep,” she continued, “you must slip into their chamber and get the key of the garden.”
Doris scarcely believed her ears. She no longer recognized Clytie. Was this the timid young girl who had been afraid to meet Ninus and whom she was obliged to lead step by step? Now it was Clytie who commanded and Doris who hesitated.
“But, do you think, Mistress...?”
Clytie raised her hand with a gesture that commanded silence.