"I have quaffed the joys of life. There is nothing that has remained untasted. And yet--I am not happy. The fires of unrest drive me hither and thither. After years of fiercest conflict, with those of my own sex and age, who consider Rome the lawful prey of any one that may usurp Marozia's fateful inheritance, I have had a glimpse of Heaven--a Heaven that perchance is not for me. Yet it aroused the desire for peace--happiness--love! Yes, my Lord Tristan, love! For though I have searched for it in every guise, I found it not. Will the hour every toll--even for me? Deem you, my Lord Tristan, that even one so guilt lost as Theodora might be loved?" "How were it possible," he stammered, "for mortal eyes to resist such loveliness?" His words sounded stilted in his ears. Yet he knew if he permitted the impulse to master him he would be swept away by the torrent. The woman also knew, and woman-like she felt that the poison rankled in his veins. She must give it time to work. She must not precipitate a scene that might leave him sobered, when the fumes had cleared from his brain. Putting all the witchery of her beauty into her words she said, with a tinge of sadness: "I fear I am trespassing, my Lord Tristan. It is so long, since I have unveiled the depths of my heart. Forget the request I have made. It may conflict with your loyalty to my Lord Alberic. I shall try to foster the memories of the place which I dare not enter--" She had ventured all upon the last throw, and she had conquered. "Nay, Lady Theodora," Tristan interposed, with a seriousness that even staggered the woman. "There is no such clause or condition in the agreement between the Lord Alberic and myself. It is true," he added in a solemn tone, "he has warned me of you, as his enemy. Report speaks ill of you. Nevertheless I believe you." "I thank you, my Lord Tristan," she said, releasing his hands. "Theodora never forgets a service. Three nights hence I am giving a feast to my friends. You will not fail me?" "I am happy to know," he said, "that the Lady Theodora thinks kindly of me. I shall not fail her. And now"--he added, genuine regret in his tone--"will the Lady Theodora permit me to depart? The hour waxes late and there is much to be done ere the morrow's dawn." Theodora clapped her hands and Persephoné appeared between the curtains. "Farewell, my Lord Tristan. We shall speak of this again," she said, beaming upon him with all the seductive fire of her dark eyes, and he, bowing, took his leave. When Persephoné returned, she was as much puzzled at the inscrutable smile that played about her mistress' lips as she had been at Tristan's abstracted state of mind, for, hardly noting her presence, he had walked in silence beside her to the gate, and had there taken silent leave.-- CHAPTER VI THE LURE OF THE ABYSS The sun had sunk to rest in fleecy clouds of crimson and gold.