"Is only available," answered Eustathius, "in case his Majesty should send
for him, which is most improbable. If he ever did, poison, praised be the
Lord! would be totally unnecessary and entirely superfluous."

"My dear friend," said Photinius, venturing at this favourable moment on a
question he had been dying to ask ever since he had been an inmate of the
convent, "would you mind telling me in confidence, did you ever administer
any potion of a deleterious nature to his Sacred Majesty?"

"Never!" protested Eustathius, with fervour. "I tried once, to be sure, but
it was no use."

"What was the impediment?"

"The perverse opposition of the cupbearer. It is idle attempting anything
of the kind as long as she is about the Emperor."

"_She_!" exclaimed Photinius.

"Don't you know _that_?" responded Eustathius, with an air and manner that
plainly said, "You don't know much."

Humbled and ashamed, Photinius nevertheless wisely stooped to avow his
nescience, and flattering his rival on his superior penetration, led him to
divulge the State secret that the handsome cupbearer Helladius was but the
disguise of the lovely Helladia, the object of Basil's tenderest affection,
and whose romantic attachment to his person had already frustrated more
conspiracies than the aged plotter could reckon up.

This intelligence made Photinius for a season exceedingly thoughtful. He
had not deemed Basil of an amorous complexion. At length he sent for his
daughter, the beautiful and virtuous Euprepia, who from time to time
visited him in the monastery.

"Daughter," he said, "it appears to me that the time has now arrived when
thou mayest with propriety present a petition to the Emperor on behalf of
thy unfortunate father. Here is the document. It is, I flatter myself,
composed with no ordinary address; nevertheless I will not conceal from
thee that I place my hopes rather on thy beauty of person than on my beauty
of style. Shake down thy hair and dishevel it, so!--that is excellent.
Remember to tear thy robe some little in the poignancy of thy woe, and to
lose a sandal. Tears and sobs of course thou hast always at command, but
let not the frenzy of thy grief render thee wholly inarticulate. Here is a
slight memorandum of what is most fitting for thee to say: thy old nurse's
instructions will do the rest. Light a candle for St. Sergius, and watch
for a favourable opportunity."

Euprepia was upright, candid, and loyal; but the best