witch potentates--for a time--strong
enough to take a city; yet Hesper, who best of all could appreciate
the value of these things, had turned from her to Laodice, who was
merely chaste.

The greater part of the jealous and bitter passion that had shaken her
then was dumb regret that the measure of charm was so irrational--and
that she had not believed in it, in time, in time!

Now, however, since she had become convinced that Laodice had gone to
Hesper for refuge, hope had awakened in her, but so filled with
uncertainty and lack of confidence in another's weakness that it was
little more than a torture to her.

If Laodice had gone to this winsome stranger, either claiming to be
the wife of Philadelphus or acknowledging the imposture, there was now
no difference between Laodice and herself!

But, she asked herself, was it not possible that this lovely girl who
had shown signs of illimitable fortitude, could live in the shelter of
the captivating Hesper as uprightly as she had lived under the roof of
the man she called her husband?

In one exigency, the hopes of Amaryllis budded; in the other, her
intuitive belief in the strength of Laodice discouraged her. And while
she alternately hoped and doubted, Philadelphus, in the chair opposite
her, talked.

"It follows that you and I must work together to gain diverse ends. If
our fortunes are to be tragic, we are undoing each other in this
conjunction. Since I in all frankness prefer it to turn out comedy,
let us make no error. Are you weary of John? Do you seek a new
diversion?"

She looked at him, at first puzzled, then with a frown. It leaped to
her lips, grown impatient with suffering, to tell him all that she had
evolved of the histories of himself, his lady and of Hesper; but there
seemed to be an element of recklessness in that which threatened to do
away with a means for her success. He did not wait for her answer.

"And I," he said with mock intensity, "am done to death with
weariness--with my moneyer, this lady of mine. Let us be diverted
while we live, for by the signs we shall all die soon."

"Where," he began when her mind wandered entirely from him, "dost thou
think the mysterious man hath taken my other wife?

"I would I knew," he continued, conducting his inquiry alone. "It will
be right simple to have her beauty spoiled in this hungry town, unless
he takes tenderest care of her."

There was still no comment, but the lively sparkle in the Greek's