And Saronia, the High Priestess of Diana, stood out against sky and sea, stood out against silver and blue, the great globed sun, a circle of light, forming a halo around her head.
CHAPTER XXXIII
NIKA
'He is away, my lord and master, my wedded husband, the Proconsul of Ephesus. Gone to Rome on State matters. Let him go! There are other Romans here as good as he, perhaps better. I shall mix with them, and, doing so, further hate the man I am tied to, sold to. I hate him! There is but one love in my heart—the love for Chios, who spurns it. Stay! I wonder if there be another beside Chios who may quench this flame devouring me? There may be. And this I determine, wherever I find love in unison, thither will I advance, and that immediately before Varro's return. Varro! Varro! what care I for Varro? I will deceive him if it pleases me. The world will call me vile if they discover. What care I for the world? What care I for the worms which crawl? Many worse than Nika. No, what cares Nika, accursed of Hecate? Take thy pleasure; to love is life, and union of souls is strength even if we be but two—'tis better than one against the hosts of hell! Nika is single-handed; Nika has no kindred soul to join in the fight—Nika the doomed one, against whom the Fates war, around whom the Furies rage. Arouse thyself! Set thy face against what is called goodness, chastity! Defy those principalities and powers which torture thee, laugh at thee, shatter thy hopes, damn thee for the next life, before thou puttest aside the vile clay of this, make sport of thy soul ere half the circle of thy days is spent!
'No, no! Enough, enough! I will fill my cup with every pleasure, if well deep enough be found. I will joy in the sunshine, if it be but for one day, like the many-coloured lily which opens to the morning sun and dies at eventide. Away, Nika, to the world of pleasure! But first drink deep of Grecian wine to brace thyself. What care I for peace? I shall be no worse than many of my Romans.'
The sun went down like an angry god, the west was ablaze with lurid gleam, the winds rushed in from the sea and smote the land, burying it with a shroud of foam. The rain descended in torrents and deluged the shore. The storm passed through the great city and away over the mountain-tops. The streets were deserted and a gloom rested on the land.
One solitary human being might have been seen winding her way from place to place, and up the mountain side towards the home of Nika. With wet and clinging garments she hesitated in front of the house. Watching an opportunity, she pushed through the hedgerow of myrtles and stood within the garden. Stealthily she crept from shrub to shrub, now under the shelter of a laurel, then tearing through a mass of roses and trampling under feet the loveliest flowers, scarcely knowing whither she went, but making for a light which filtered through a window of many-coloured glass, until at last she stood in front of it, and dimly saw the overhanging jasmine and the great, white flowers of the magnolia. For a moment the perfume, like an angel guardian, uttered protest and dared approach, but the spirit impelling that form enveloped in soaking garb was one not long to be brooked by sentiment, and she moved like a panther carefully forward, and peered through the casement left open to admit the perfumed air. She gazed anxiously through the opening, and saw the form of the beautiful Nika sitting on a low chair. The double tablet of wax lay upon her knees, and in her hand was an ivory point chased with diamonds. She had just written, and was evidently agitated.