'Thou hast heard,' said the Proconsul, 'that Saronia has abjured her faith in the great Diana, and is a prisoner within the Temple where once she reigned supreme, second only to the goddess?'

'Yes,' replied Chios, 'I have, and my heart is nearly dead. Can anything be done to save her?'

'I think not. The Roman State cannot interfere in such matters. The faiths of the empire are manifold. Beside, Nero has enough on his hands, and knows better than to stir up the passions of the Ionian people for the sake of a woman who in no way interferes with his caprice. No, my dear fellow; I am afraid all will be settled by the Temple custom, and Saronia must accept her fate.'

'But, Varro, Proconsul, thou hast power here second only to the Emperor, and perhaps greater. The State allows great latitude. Where is Lucius?'

'At sea.'

'Where?'

'I cannot tell thee, Chios.'

'Where was he when last thou heardst?'

'At Rome, receiving orders from Nero.'

'Varro, thou canst tell me of his whereabouts, if thou carest.'

'I can say only that ere long he will arrive at Ephesus, but he cannot help thee, noble Chios. A weightier charge than thou knowest awaits the priestess.'

'What is it?'

'Murder!'

'Murder! Of whom?'

'The High Priest.'

''Tis a lie!' spoke out the Greek.

'Perhaps so,' replied Varro; 'but circumstances are against her. After her arrest, in her room was found a pair of sandals, stained underneath with human blood.'

'Merciful God!' exclaimed Chios.

'Listen further. It is well known that on the fateful night she went to the Sacred Grove, close to the river Cayster, where the priest was found. Do not be jealous, good fellow. The prying eyes of an attendant priestess reports that a man supposed to be her lover was seen in the company of this beautiful woman, even in the company of Saronia, the haughty Saronia, priestess of Diana! Now, Chios, looking at such evidences, the conclusion drawn is that, afraid of being exposed by the priest, who also must have seen her, she or her lover slew him, and Saronia, conscience-stricken, knowing such an act could never be forgiven by her Lady Saviour, left her faith, and, with cunning hypocrisy, pretends the Christian, thinking perhaps she may gain sympathy or help from that hated crew. Now, Chios, does this satisfy thee?'

'No,' said he; 'it is all untrue. Christian she may be; murderess—never!'

'Then thou dost still believe in her?'

'Yes; to shed the last drop of my life's blood, and may Heaven grant me such an opportunity!'

'Nonsense—nonsense, Chios! Too long hast thou been infatuated by this mysterious being. Methought for some time past no good would come to thee by such a passion, and let me warn thee ere too late. Be careful, or thou wilt be netted in this sad event. Lie low, my friend, and let her meet her fate. Thou canst do no good, and may empty on thy head unmeasured ills.'

'No, Varro. Were those looming ills more numerous than the hairs which grow upon my aching head I would meet them, embrace them, to save Saronia one pang of grief or pain. Nevertheless, I thank thee for thy kindly counsel, but the mind of the Greek is made up. If she suffer, I suffer with her. If she die, Chios dies. Not as the coward dies—I will die trying to save her life. No threats, no danger, no death will stop me. I am fixed to this purpose. I know she is as pure as heaven, and honoured from thence. Were Chios half so holy he would consider himself blessed.

'Roman, thou hast no good blood for her, wouldst not move a finger to protect her; but I, with an unshaken belief in her goodness, will do my best. Good-bye, noble Proconsul. Saronia may yet appeal in Rome!'

'What! Before Nero?'

'Yes.'

'Take care, Chios!'

'Say on.'

'Why, the fleeing slave taking shelter in the forest gloom and sleeping in the tiger's lair would fare as well. Ah, ah, Chios! Thou art short-sighted. Saronia, a lovely woman, and a Christian, seeking Nero as judge! Why, he would judge her meet for the arena or his mistress, and make thee a slave into the bargain if thou interfered!'

The teeth of Chios were firmly set, and his face became livid. He dared not vent his rage on the chosen man of the Emperor and the Senate of Rome, but his looks spoke louder than words.

Varro saw all at a glance, and said:

'Thou dost not meet my words.'

'No. Silent am I for her dear sake. Watch my actions. They may answer thee.'

'I will, and be careful of the moonstruck lover. I wish thee well, old friend. Thou art a good fellow. I have done my best to tempt thee from this wild crusade, and would on my soul I had succeeded. But there is no cure for love, and thou art in love—a phantom love. Do not lose thyself in a wild morass.'

'Fear not, Varro. If I love, so didst thou. Mine may grow, and joy with awakening purity and loveliness; thine is blighted and dead, and from thy dead love springs up the hate thou bearest towards Saronia, thinking she in some mysterious way o'ershadowed Nika.'

'Silence, man!'

'No, I will not be silent. I speak to thee as Varro. I speak not to the Proconsul of Ionia. I say, were Saronia not Saronia and I asked thy aid, thou wouldst give it; but now thy spirit reaches out for pretext to blast the one thy faithless wife abhorred. Is not thine a mad, dead love? Come, change thy mind, and help me. I tell thee, Saronia never hurt thy Nika, and she is as innocent of this murder as the truest spirit of God. Now, noble friend, wilt thou not help me?'

'What can I do, Chios? I cannot interfere.'

'Then, promise thou wilt not pursue.'

'Is she really innocent?'

'Yes.'

'Dost thou know this?'

'Yes.'

'And swear it?'

'I do.'

'Then, if Varro cannot help Saronia, he will not pursue her.'