"Cursest thou me?" she exclaimed. "Beware what thou sayest! I have power!"
"As a caged leopard hath power, so hast thou," said Lysias. "I leave thee. Be thou a slave, for that is all that is in thee"—and he was gone.
She stood and looked at the doorway by which he had departed, and her lips were without color and her hand was on her bosom.
"What is this?" she asked. "Did I love him better than I knew? Was I too much in fear that I sent him from me? One cometh who would slay him. It is best that he should go lest he should die. Women must be prudent, but this pain is great. I did love him. O that he had not come again, for before he came I was happy. O ye gods, what shall I do? O beautiful Aphrodite, help me, for thou knowest love!"
In the corridor lingered Lysias listening, and then he walked on, staggering as he went.
"O woman! woman!" he whispered. "What is woman and what is man? She is changed and I change not. I cannot hate her, as I thought I could, now she hath spoken. I will wait cunningly, for I am sure that in this palace is one who calleth for my knife or for a spear thrust. I will find him."
In a moment more he was in his own place, still leaving its door ajar, as at the first, but he began to search among the weapons and the armor in the room, finding a small, sharp blade with an ivory handle, and hiding it in his bosom.
"It will do," he said, "but I would I might wear mail."
At that he was stooping over some fine steelwork and he heard a step behind him. It was a crafty thought which bade him continue his speech.
"The procurator knoweth me only as a postboy," he said. "I might serve him better in mail. He hath not many who would be true to him as I would. There are those who are false, but I could bring him a good sword in a hand he might surely trust."