"Were it not wise," he drawled, looking from the one to the other, "to acquaint this holy man with the perils that beset his soul, since the two most beautiful and virtuous ladies in Rome seem resolved to guide him on his Way of the Cross?" There was a moment of silence, then he continued in the same drawl, which veiled emotions he dared not reveal in this assembly. "Deem you, the man who journeyed hundreds of leagues to obtain absolution for having kissed a woman in wedlock has aught to fear from such as you?" Ere Theodora could make reply the tantalizing purring voice of Roxana struck her ear. "Surely this is no man--" "A man he is, nevertheless," Basil retorted hotly. "One night I wandered out upon the silent Aventine. Losing myself among the ruins, I heard voices in the abode of the Monk of Cluny. Fearing, lest some one should attempt to harm this holy friar," he continued, with a side glance at Theodora, "I entered unseen. I overheard his confession." There was profound silence. It seemed too monstrously absurd. Absolution for a kiss! Roxana spoke at last, and her veiled mockery strained her rival's temper to the breaking point. Her words stung, as needles would the naked flesh. "Then," she said with deliberate slowness, "if our fair Theodora persist in her unholy desire, what else is there for me to do but to take him from her just to save the poor man's soul?" Theodora's white hands yearned for the other woman's throat. "Deem you, your charms would snare the good pilgrim, should I will to make him mine?" she flashed. "Why not?" Roxana purred. "Shall we try? Are you afraid?"-- "Of you?" Theodora shrilled. A strange fire burnt in Roxana's eyes. "Of the ordeal! Once upon a time you took from me the boy I loved. Now I shall take from you the man you desire!" "I challenge you!" "To the death!" Roxana flashed, appraising her rival's charms against her own. Her further utterance was checked by the sudden entrance of one of the Africans, who prostrated himself before Theodora, muttering some incoherent words at which both the woman and Basil gave a start. "Have him thrown into the street," Basil turned to Theodora. "Have him brought in," Theodora commanded. For the space of a few moments intense silence reigned throughout the pavilion. Then the curtains at the farther end parted, admitting two huge Africans, who carried between them the seemingly lifeless form of a man. An imperious gesture of Theodora directed them to approach with their burden, and a cry of surprise and dismay broke from her lips as she gazed into the white, still features of Tristan.