Saronia / A Romance of Ancient Ephesus

by Richard Short

'Silence! Curse her not.'

'Say on, Chios: what dost thou want of me?'

'Nothing.'

'Then pass thy way and leave me as thou didst find me, unless thou, too, would whip me like a cur for resting against thy piece of marble.'

'Nay, woman; I will not go until I help thee. Here is a golden piece—another and another. Take them all; I have more. Go thou and get food, and hope on. Thou art earth's side of the great threshold, and may yet do well with the remnant of thy life.'

'No, no; I know the faith. Thou art wrong. The cursed of Hecate are doomed!'

'Listen, woman! Thou knowest Saronia?'

'Ah! ah! Thou canst not leave that name. I knew I was right. Thou lovest her?'

'Silence, I tell thee again! Thou art more profane than I imagined. Think you I am perilous enough to venture the curse of hell by daring to love a priestess of Hecate?'

'Yes. Thou art of the mould to dare anything for love. Not only to risk the curse of hell, but to wear it as thou wearest that ribbon around thy neck, the ribbon which suspends the silver shrine Saronia placed upon thy breast when thou didst slumber as the dead.'