“I have,” answered the girl. The woman clapped her hands for a servant. A black woman came noiselessly in and lighted the brass chandelier with a long taper. The girl stood as still and white as death under the light. The mother read the answer in the white face, and her own face became white and hard as stone. “Then—go—from—this house,” she slowly pronounced, “and never darken its doors again till you are wedded wife of Thamyris.” The girl picked up her black cloak from the couch she was never to see again, threw it over her shoulders and passed silently down the courtyard stairs, and out to the night street. The hard marble face of the mother broke in a harsh cunning laugh. “And now—Thamyris,” was all she said. The black woman withdrew with a shiver and followed her young mistress down the stairs. As she heard the street door shut twice, the mother laughed again. The silence of midnight with a chill of the mountain snows fell on the little city where East and West met on the Great Roman Road. When the two cloaked women passed through the outer door to the darkened and deserted square, they were followed by three silent figures—two of them rude fellows, who had thrown the rocks at the speaker and fomented the riot of the throngs listening forward, the third with a blue-and-gold turban cap, a blue-silk jacket and a sword in his gold sash. “Follow,” the third ordered. “When they run for the dark lanes, seize them. Clap your hands over their faces so they cannot scream! Do what you like with the black woman—she is yours; but I am to rescue the maid. See you hurt her not, but frighten her well, and when I strike at you with my sword, take to your heels. Avoid the Roman watchman! This must not be known! Come to my warerooms for your reward to-morrow.” But the Roman watchman with brass lantern on arm was pacing the center of the square, and to him the two women hastened. The three men following stealthily in the shadows of the buildings round the square saw them pause and speak to the Roman. There was parley of some kind. The Roman soldier seemed to be hesitating! He had laughed loudly at first. Now he was in doubt and hesitating. The woman with the white face had thrown back her cloak, lifted her hands and was unfastening her earrings. She placed them in the Roman’s hands. He had liftened his brass lantern and was examining the proffered jewels. He lifted his bugle and blew a shrill whistle. Half a dozen Roman soldiers came running from the prison side of the city square. The three spies dodged into a darkened lane between streets. When they emerged on the city square again, stealthily glancing in all directions, there was not a sign of Roman watchman, soldiers, women. Thamyris drew his sword in a blind fury of balked passion.