f
old Chryseros Philargyrus I had resolutely refrained from, thinking of
Vedia. I had argued with myself that it was impossible for me to forget or
ignore the daily and hourly contrasts between my former status as a
wealthy nobleman and my present condition as a fugitive always in danger
and generally in acute discomfort. Amid the inevitable resultant
depression I might keep alive, healthy and sane if I concentrated my
thoughts on self-congratulation at my survival. If I dwelt on my downfall
I should lose my wits. If, in addition to thoughts of my loss of rank,
wealth, friends and ease I yielded to my inclination to brood over my loss
of Vedia, I should infallibly go insane. I resolutely put thoughts of her
away. I succeeded in keeping them away. During my winter at the hut in the
mountains, during my succeeding adventures, I had not thought of Vedia;
thoughts of her had crossed my mind but seldom and fleetingly.

Now, all at once, I was overwhelmed by the realization of how ardently,
how unalterably I loved her, how keenly I longed for her, how tenderly I
felt towards her. Nothing, past, present or future, mattered to me except
Vedia and her welfare. I had been thinking with relished amusement of the
dismay of some pampered beauty haled from, her luxurious coach and off
through the wild mountains, immured in some lonely cave in the forests,
guarded by coarse ruffians, reduced to the most primitive diet and
bedding, forced to endure all sorts of discomforts, and threatened with
death or worse if an enormous ransom were not forthcoming promptly. I had
been chuckling at the prospect of getting a far-off glimpse of the first
act of this comedy.

My revulsion of feeling was dazing. I was hot and cold with horror at the
thought of Vedia's agony, terror and misery and of her danger among
Bulla's swarthy, brutal ruffians with their black curly hair and beards
intensifying the villainy of their lowering faces, with their mighty hands
always close to their daggers. Vedia I must save!

How?

Almost as I recognized her carriage, my eyes, instinctively sweeping my
entire outlook, caught sight of Selinus feeding among a small herd of
young mares on a hillside midway of the extensive pasture on the other
side of the road just to north of my crag. I knew there was, a little to
the north of the crag, on the same side of the road, a knoll from which
that bit of hillside was plainly visible at no great distance. I had my
plan worked