'Vile woman, what dost thou mean?'
'I come to tell thee of Nika.'
'Nika? Nika of Lucius?'
'Yes.'
'Stay thy speech, then; she is dead to me. I have no desire to hear more of her.'
'But, dreadful Saronia, thou shalt hear that I have to say! Thou hast a woman's heart, and will listen as I go on. She has been thine enemy—still is—she lurks in thy pathway. Venusta is as bad, if not worse. Both would singe thy wings, sacred as thou art, and draw thee down to be the sport of Ephesus, nor stay their tongues at any lie.'
'What meanest thou? How knowest thou this?'
'How do I know? Do not slaves leave their homes by stealth and come to the wise woman Endora that she may read their fate? Such is the case. One night, under cover of darkness, a slave slid from the jewelled home of the Romans, and sought my wretched den. 'Twas then I plucked from out the bosom of the frightened one the secrets of Venusta's house. She overheard her mistress say that all in her power should be done to drag thee down, appealing at the same time for aid from the Roman Proconsul, who has just arrived from Rome to rule Ionia. But—I have more to tell thee. Thou knowest Chios, the Greek?'
'Thou art growing too familiar, Endora.'
'I am aware of it, august lady, but this familiarity is but the outcome of my strong desire to aid thee. I will say my say if cast to death for it. Remember we serve one goddess. Thou art blessed; I a rebel and cursed. But Hecate is our goddess. I say thou knowest Chios; I know it to be so, I noted his kindness when thou wert a slave. Rememberest thou the time when, standing without the great theatre, waiting the bidding of the Roman reptile, he came and spoke words of comfort to thee—to thee? And below, in the depths of thy heart, are many cherished windings of the past wherein he lit thee through the briars.'