"Ah," she exclaimed, "how I hate her! Yes, and I envy her too! Stupid people are always healthy. But she shall not rejoice while I suffer!" "And the fate of the Capitol depends upon such a woman's hatred!" exclaimed Cethegus to himself. "Down with Cleopatra!" "The foolish woman is in love with her husband's honour and glory. There I can wound her fatally!" continued Theodora. As she spoke the twitching of her delicate features betrayed an attack of acute pain; she threw herself back upon her cushions. "My little dove," said Galatea, "do not be angry. Thou knowest what the Persian said. Every excitement, be it of love or of hate----" "Yes. To hate and to love is life! And as one grows older, hatred is almost sweeter than love. Love is false; hate is true." "In both," said Cethegus, "I am a novice compared to you. I have always called you the Siren of Cyprus. One can never be sure that you will not suddenly tear your victim in the very act of embracing him--either from love, or from hate. And what has suddenly changed your love of Antonina into hatred?" "She has become virtuous, the hypocrite! Or can she be really so weak-minded? It is possible. Her fishy blood can never be made to boil. For a strong passion or a bold crime she was always too cowardly. She is too vain to forego admiration and too paltry to reciprocate it. Since she accompanied her husband on his campaign she has become quite virtuous. Ha, ha, ha! because she was obliged! Even as the devil fasts when he has nothing to eat. Because I kept her lover a prisoner." "Anicius, the son of Boëthius? I heard of it." "Yes, he. When in Italy Antonina again clung to her husband and shared his fame and his misfortunes. And since that time she is a very Penelope! When she returned here, what did the goose do? She reproached me with having enticed her from the path of virtue! and swore that she would save Anicius from my toils. And she succeeds, the snake! She opens the gates of conscience and weans my unfaithful chamberlain more and more from me--of course only to keep him for herself." "So you cannot imagine," said Cethegus, "that any woman can try to save a soul?" "Without profit? No. But at the same time she deceives herself and him by pious speeches. And oh! how gladly the youth allows himself to be saved by this youthful blooming saint from the arms of the faded woman--who is wasted before her time! Ha!" she added passionately, starting from her seat, "how pitiable that the body must succumb from fatigue before the soul has half satisfied its thirst for life! And to live is to rule, to hate, and to love!" "You seem insatiable in these arts and enjoyments."