'No, no! It will leave no lasting impression on my mind; it will be as a cloud-shadow passing over a granite rock, leaving no trace behind. What didst thou say?'
'Thou hatest me.'
'I hate thee! How dost thou know?'
'I scarcely know how to frame my words to form reply.'
'Thou shalt.'
'I cannot! But surely as I feel the throbbing of my heart, so certain am I of thine hatred, and expect no mercy from my mistress or her daughter; yet still I feel thou canst not harm me, and I shall not fail beneath thine hand. My destiny is dark, but not broken. I am not like water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. No; my path lies onward through the ages, perchance where thou mayest not follow. I know not why I speak in this manner to thee. A fire seems eating up my very vitals, my brain whirls, and a power which possesses me bids me defy thee, and say: "The slave Saronia is as good as thou, and the time is not distant—yea, well within the span of this brief mortal life—when thou shalt seek me out for help, when thou shalt call for the Sidonian, when thou shalt beg for aid from dark Saronia!"'
When Venusta returned, she found her daughter lying on the citrous couch with head buried between her beautiful hands; but oh the horror depicted on that lovely face as she raised it and gazed into her mother's eyes!
'Thou art suffering, Nika.'
'Thou sayest truly; my whole being seems to have been lashed into a fury, like unto when the winds of winter sweep over the moaning sea, and break the mast from out the noble ship, scatter her cordage, sever the silver cord of her mariners, and leave her an abandoned wreck, the sport of every yawning wave; and after this the mockery of calm and sunny sky. And I, too, have now the calm, and I may truly call it mockery. 'Tis a calm of awful stillness without a ray of hope—a calm so still, so death-like, leaden, which leaves no room for doubt that I am left alone. The spirits of the gods have left me. I am accursed!'