'Whether male or female?' continued Bassus, still looking around to see that all understood.
'Are they fools? Can they not hear? Will you throw or not?' shouted Sergius.
In a wild delirium of excitement, the comedian began the game, and in a few minutes it was concluded. Then he leaped from his seat, crying out:
'I have won! And there can be no dispute now! You all heard that he gave the choice of his slaves, whether male or female?'
'Fool!' sneered Sergius, throwing himself back. 'What dispute can there be? Do you think that I would deny my word? And do you suppose I did not know your aims, cunningly as you may think you veiled them? Would I have given up Leta to you, if she had been of any further value to myself? By the gods! had you waited a while, I do not know but what I would have made her a present to you; not however, to oblige you, but to punish her!'
The comedian listened in chopfallen amazement. Already it seemed to him that his prize had lost half its value.
'Be at rest, though,' Sergius continued, in a contemptuous tone. 'I have merely tired of her, that is all. Her eyes are as bright and her voice as silvery as ever. She may not ever come to love you much, but she will have the wit to pretend that she does; and if she makes you believe her—as you doubtless will—it will be all the same thing to you. Who knows, too, with what zeal she may worm herself into your affection, under the guidance of her ambition? For, that she has ambition, you will soon discover. By Bacchus! since you have no wife or household to fetter your fancies, it would not surprise me were you to succumb to her wiles, and to make of her your wife. You may recline there and smile with incredulity; but such things have been done before this, and by men who would not condescend to look upon one in your poor station. Yes, I will wager that, in the end, you will make of her your wife. Well, it would be no harm to you. She will then deceive you, of course; but what of that? Have not better men submitted to that inevitable lot? Yes, she will deceive you; and then will smile upon you, and you will believe her word, and be again deceived. But you will have only yourself to blame for it. I have warned you in advance.'
CHAPTER XV.
As the shouts of laughter elicited by the host's remark rang through the hall, drowning the muttered response of the comedian, Leta glided softly and rapidly from behind the screen of tapestry which veiled the open doorway. There, crouching out of sight, she had remained concealed for the last hour—watching the revellers through a crevice in the needlework, and vainly hoping, either in the words or face of Sergius, to detect some tone or expression indicative of regretful thought or recollection of herself. When at last her name had been mentioned, for a moment she had eagerly held her breath, lest she might lose one syllable from which an augury of her fate could be drawn. Then, repressing, with a violent effort, the cry of despair which rose to her lips, upon hearing herself thus coolly and disdainfully surrendered as the stake of a game of dice, and with less apparent regret than would have been felt for the loss of a single gold piece, she drew the folds of her dress closely about her and passed out.
Out through the antechamber—down the stairway—and into the central court; no other purpose guiding her footsteps than that of finding some place where she could reflect, without disturbance, upon the fate before her. In that heated hall she must have died; but it might be that in the cool, open air, she could conquer the delirium which threatened to overwhelm her, and could thus regain her self-control. If only for five minutes, it might be well. With her quick energy and power of decision, even five minutes of cool, deliberate counsel with herself might suffice to shape and direct her whole future life.