?" she murmured, holding her hands out to
the Athenian.

They stared at each other, their faces almost meeting in the darkness,
and the Greek recognized in the woman the unhappy _lupa_ who had fed him
the first night of his arrival in Saguntum. She seemed even more
surprised than the Athenian at the meeting.

"Is it you, Actaeon? It seems as if the gods put me in your path,
although you scorn me. You are running away from the city, are you not?
You must be tired of Sonnica the rich; you do not want to die like those
merchants whom Hannibal the invincible will put to the knife! You are
doing well! Fly! Fly far away!"

She glanced apprehensively at the camp fire as if she feared the
approach of the soldiers who were warming themselves around it, laughing
and drinking with a group of _lupas_ from the port.

The miserable harlot, in lowered voice, told the Greek why she was
there. She was the favorite of Geryon, a Balearic slinger. He had left
his companions a moment before, and had got out of her way so as not to
have to give her the wages he had just received, and in searching for
him she had stumbled upon Actaeon. He might return, or his companions
might approach, attracted by their voices; it was dangerous for Actaeon
to remain where he was.

"What are you going to do?"

"I want to reach the coast, and follow along it until I find a fishing
smack which will take me to Emporion or to Denia. I have money to pay my
passage. Afterward I will look for a ship to take me away, very far
away."

"You will not return, will you? I do not wish you to return. If you only
knew how often I have thought of you while men were killing each other
on the walls! I shall never see you again, but I would rather not see
you than have you remain in the city or become the slave of my lover the
slinger. Hannibal will finish all of them! Ah, cruel city! And how I
long to see all those rich women fall before Hannibal's troops--those
women who used to have us beaten when we came near them at the port!"

The poor harlot, extending her hand to the Greek, began to guide him
through the fields.

"Come!" she murmured; "I will conduct you to the beach, and from there
you can continue on your way without other help than that of the gods.
Seeing you with me they will think you are a Celtiberian soldier with
his woman, looking for a place to spend the night. Come! I fed you the
first night you came here, and I will save you on this last."

They