In a frightened tone Nana said: “When thy mother died, my Gyges, Nana became thy comforter. Tell me all.”
“Ay, Nana; but this news is terrifying,” said Gyges, shuddering. “Gannon is dead.”
“Gannon dead!” exclaimed Nana. “May the gods comfort his family!”
“His parents have been arrested,” continued Gyges, in a louder tone.
“Nay, ’tis not possible!” she exclaimed.
“Psyche is a prisoner and I am pursued,” cried Gyges, in a voice broken with anguish.
So overwhelmed by this sudden and horrible news was Nana that she remained silent for some time. Finally she softly moaned, “O Mother of God, celestial Cybele, comfort us!”
“Ay, Nana,” groaned Gyges. “I feel as if a crushing hand were thrust into my bosom and were compressing my heart. But this poor lad suffers. I pray thee go bathe and anoint his back! Leave me alone with my burden of woe!”
She kissed his forehead, saying: “Words cannot comfort thee. Thy spirit must wrestle alone with this grievous affliction.” She paused a moment and asked, “Wouldst thou have me light a lamp?”
“Nay; the darkness of this room is brighter than that which fills my heart,” he sadly replied.