One of the lamps had been set directly opposite their cell, but its feeble glimmer hardly extended to the bars of their cage, although it rendered objects in the corridor dimly distinct.
Hour followed hour, and each seemed like a week to the young Athenian. Chares, overcome by drowsiness, had fallen asleep at his side. Clearchus wondered at the careless nature of his friend that permitted him to close his eyes in the face of so horrible a death. He had no doubt that Nathan would seek to rescue them, but he knew not when nor how. Perhaps he would attempt intercession with Darius. Perhaps he would defer the trial until the morning. What if he should fail? Clearchus was far from being a coward, but his nerves shrank from the thought of the torture and the lingering agony that would follow before death came to set them free. The very idea of death, since now he knew that Artemisia was living and in need of him, filled his heart with anguish.
As he lay gazing into the corridor, with his head upon his hand, he recalled her face as it had appeared to him in the happy garden in Academe, with the sunlight on her hair and the color of the wild rose in her cheeks. He remembered how her blue eyes had looked into his with sweet wistfulness and how the tears dimmed them when she told him of the fears that had beset her. The tears rose to his own eyes at the remembrance, and he ground his teeth as he thought of his helplessness. Why had he not trusted the prevision of her finer perceptions, half ethereal as they were? Why had he not remained to defend her and to prevent the train of misfortunes which had followed?
The sentinel paused at the door of the cell for a moment in passing. He noted the deep breathing of Chares and resumed his march with a yawn. Clearchus listened, mechanically counting his steps until he should reach the spot where they were to turn. Suddenly a sound came to his ears that caused him to sit up and listen intently. There were other footfalls in the corridor. They were advancing in the track of the sentinel from the direction of the entrance.
The Athenian's pulses bounded. Help had come. He stretched out his hand to rouse Chares, but in an instant he reflected that there was evidently no effort at concealment on the part of the newcomer. The steps were careless and deliberate. Probably they were made by another guard, who had come to relieve the bloodthirsty wretch outside. His hope sank as suddenly as it had arisen and he let his hand fall.
"Why should I awaken him?" he thought. "Let him sleep."
Slowly the steps advanced. Clearchus crept to the door of the cell and peered out through the grating. A man's figure was approaching along the passage. It was Nathan. Clearchus rose quickly to his feet and shook Chares by the shoulder.
"Silence!" he whispered.
The Theban rubbed his eyes and stretched his great limbs.
"Where am I?" he muttered. "Oh, yes, I remember. What has happened?"