'The cave! Saronia!' shrieked Nika, and fell to the floor a helpless form.
The Roman took her up and laid her on a couch, her hair flowing in golden masses to the ground, and her face like the face of death when Chios painted her!
He called a slave to attend to Nika, hurried to his apartment, and sent word to Venusta instructing her to come immediately, stating her daughter was ill.
Venusta came, and was terror-stricken at her daughter's appearance, and that day the wife of the Proconsul was removed to her mother's home on the side of Mount Coressus.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE VIRGIN CAVE
In the Sacred Grove of Hecate, where the sun lit up the cypress-trees, and the birds sang on the billowy branches of the cluster-pine, and laurels greeted the gods, waving their dark-green foliage on the whispering air; where roses twined like weary children round the olive-trees, and oleanders, white as snow and pink as rosy dawn, bent down and kissed the murmuring brook; where the pale narcissi mirrored themselves in silent pools like stars of silver on the solemn sea, and the maddening perfume of that lovely flower mingled with the odour of the sweet grass, wild thyme, and violets—here the blue celandine and hyacinth vied in colour with the saffron flower and scarlet poppy, sacred to Diana, and every bloom was the emblem of a god; and the nymphs kept guard o'er sacred trees, and naiades revelled in gayest dance the long night through.
The Sacred Cave was here—the Virgin Cave of Hecate, around which, like lost souls out of place, grew alder, dark, deadly aconite, and branches green of juniper, waiting their call to burn as incense to the infernal goddess.
A winding pathway led down to the cave, the cave of trial.
Its doors were strong, of olive wood, with tracings wrought in gold. On either side uprose stout pillars of malachite; and over the entrance, in curious marble richly carved, were figures of Hecate in judgment.