WHEN the Thessalian found that Arbaces returned to her no more--when she was left, hour after hour, to all the torture of that miserable suspense which was rendered by blindness doubly intolerable, she began, with outstretched arms, to feel around her prison for some channel of escape; and finding the only entrance secure, she called aloud, and with the vehemence of a temper naturally violent, and now sharpened by impatient agony.
'Ho, girl!' said the slave in attendance, opening the door; art thou bit by a scorpion? or thinkest thou that we are dying of silence here, and only to be preserved, like the infant Jupiter, by a hullabaloo?'
'Where is thy master? and wherefore am I caged here? I want air and liberty: let me go forth!'
'Alas! little one, hast thou not seen enough of Arbaces to know that his will is imperial! He hath ordered thee to be caged; and caged thou art, and I am thy keeper. Thou canst not have air and liberty; but thou mayst have what are much better things--food and wine.'
'Proh Jupiter!' cried the girl, wringing her hands; 'and why am I thus imprisoned? What can the great Arbaces want with so poor a thing as I am?'
'That I know not, unless it be to attend on thy new mistress, who has been brought hither this day.'
'What! Ione here?'
'Yes, poor lady; she liked it little, I fear. Yet, by the Temple of Castor!
Arbaces is a gallant man to the women. Thy lady is his ward, thou knowest.'
'Wilt thou take me to her?'
'She is ill--frantic with rage and spite. Besides, I have no orders to do so; and I never think for myself. When Arbaces made me slave of these chambers, he said, "I have but one lesson to give thee--while thou servest me, thou must have neither ears, eyes, nor thought; thou must be but one quality--obedience."'
'But what harm is there in seeing Ione?'
'That I know not; but if thou wantest a companion, I am willing to talk to thee, little one, for I am solitary enough in my dull cubiculum. And, by the way, thou art Thessalian--knowest thou not some cunning amusement of knife and shears, some pretty trick of telling fortunes, as most of thy race do, in order to pass the time 'Tush, slave, hold thy peace! or, if thou wilt speak, what hast thou heard of the state of Glaucus?'
'Why, my master has gone to the Athenian's trial; Glaucus will smart for it!'
'For what?'
'The murder of the priest Apaecides.'
'Ha!' said Nydia, pressing her hands to her forehead; 'something of this Ihave indeed heard, but understand not. Yet, who will dare to touch a hair of his head?'
'That will the lion, I fear.'
'Averting gods! what wickedness dost thou utter?'
'Why, only that, if he be found guilty, the lion, or may be the tiger, will be his executioner.'
Nydia leaped up, as if an arrow had entered her heart; she uttered a piercing scream; then, falling before the feet of the slave, she cried, in a tone that melted even his rude heart:
'Ah! tell me thou jestest--thou utterest not the truth--speak, speak!'
'Why, by my faith, blind girl, I know nothing of the law; it may not be so bad as I say. But Arbaces is his accuser, and the people desire a victim for the arena. Cheer thee! But what hath the fate of the Athenian to do with thine?'
'No matter, no matter--he has been kind to me: thou knowest not, then, what they will do? Arbaces his accuser! O fate! The people--the people! Ah! they can look upon his face--who will be cruel to the Athenian!--Yet was not Love itself cruel to him?'
So saying, her head drooped upon her bosom: she sunk into silence; scalding tears flowed down her cheeks; and all the kindly efforts of the slave were unable either to console her or distract the absorption of her reverie.
