'Come within, pretty maiden, for the winds are chill and the night-hawks violent. Nay, stay a moment, do not enter now. I will light the lamp.'
As Endora entered she thought within her: 'This is Nika accursed of Hecate, the tyrant of Saronia, the lover of Chios. What darkness is abroad? What comes she for to-night? Shall I slay or play with her? Revenge is toothsome to me. I have her in my power, and could square accounts for Saronia, but what, I wonder, would the priestess say? Perhaps I should get blame or death for my work. So I will let her be, and will draw from her that which I know the dark girl of the Temple will not disdain to hear.
'Now then, Endora, do thy work well. Fear not the Roman lady, and a mine of wealth is thine. But what do I care for gold?'
Nika entered the cave, hewn directly out of the rock. An iron ring was driven into the roof, and a quaint old Phallic lamp hung down just clear of their heads; a winding fissure in the rock let out the smoke. A recess was in its inner part, and a time-worn curtain hid a pallet of corn-leaves. Two old chests, a few stools, a rude altar, cooking-pans, and some quaint trifles spread around made up the contents of the place.
'Sit thee down, lady. Compose thyself. Thou art safe, although the place looks stormy. What seekest thou?'
'To know my fate. I have heard thou art deeply skilled in magic, and I would know more than the present reveals.'
'Wouldst thou know all?'
'How far would it go?'
'To thy life's end—and beyond.'
'Tell me first. You know the old story. Shall I love? whom? when? and so on?'