icanor said nothing. His ears strained for approaching footsteps, but
the walls were thick, and many had cried for help before and none had
heard them. He had no plan; he had given the girl what chance he could,
and it was all that he could do. If she could not help herself--well,
there would be one more to cross the threshold of fate. His only thought
was to give her what time he could. Let her once get away from the
house, and over the frozen ground it would be hard to find her trail
until morning.

Hito took it in his head to make a dash. He started for the door,
shouting at the top of his lungs for help. Nicanor barred his passage,
silent and inexorable. He did not raise hand against Hito, but stood
like a rock against the fat one's futile pummellings. For to strike a
superior meant, for a slave, instant and lawful death. Hito would none
the less maintain that he had been struck, but Nicanor could not help
that. So that Hito battered until his fists were sore; and Nicanor stood
and took it silently, with set jaws and eyes gleaming like a wolf's in
his dark face. He could not hope to keep Hito there much longer. The
latter, wearied at length and puffing, sat on the edge of that grim
bridal bed and cursed Nicanor by all the evil gods. After this, when his
invention gave out, he fell silent and sat and stared at the tall
figure that guarded the door, with his little eyes half closed. But
quite suddenly those eyes flew wide with astonishment. For the figure
against the door had begun to sway from side to side, gently and
rhythmically, with a low mutter of incoherent words. Hito looked again,
somewhat startled. The slave's face was set and blank; his eyes stared
straight ahead and were dull and without lustre.

"The gods save us!" Hito muttered, watching uneasily. "Hath the man a
fit?"

"See them coming!" said Nicanor. His finger pointed here and there, and
in spite of himself, Hito's eyes followed it. "Bright maidens,
flower-crowned, robed in gauze. Ah, flee not, sweet ones!" He stretched
his hands imploringly. "Whence come ye, from the mist? See the mist, how
it rises, full of dreams which are to come to men. Are ye dreams, ye
radiant ones? No, for ye do not vanish. Ha! I have thee, lovely nymph!
and thou shalt find my arms as strong to hold as the gods' from whom
thou camest. Unveil thyself, sweet, and let me see thy face. It should
be fair, with so fair a form. So--thou thinkest to escape and fly from
me?"

He s