A shadow passed before the entrance of the cave; there was a howl of joy, and Byssa felt herself pushed against the cliff.
It was Bremon, who in delight at finding her trail at the foot of the mountain, had snatched his chain from Lyrcus’ hand and now leaped upon her, overwhelming her with caresses.
The dog’s affection cheered Byssa’s heart; she roused herself from her stupor and covered the faithful animal with tears and kisses.
Again a shadow glided past the opening of the cavern.
Lyrcus, armed with spear and shield, stood before her, gazing wildly beyond her into the cave as though his glance sought someone. Then he looked searchingly into her eyes, as if he would fain read her inmost soul.
Byssa rose—her knees no longer trembled. As though answering the doubt in her husband’s glance, she pointed to the Pelasgian stretched in the dust and said:
“I have killed him.”
A shudder ran through Lyrcus’ limbs and he stared, as though unable to trust his eyes, at the lifeless form lying in the darkness.
“Byssa!” he cried, stretching out his arms to embrace his wife.
But she shrank back, shrieking: