ghts flashed along the
wharves and through the village streets; the lupanars and taverns were
subjected to a brutal overhauling by the Romans who were mad with fury;
a fresh fight started at the door of every hut; blood was about to flow
anew, when the Greek, fearing to become involved in a riot, fled to the
temple. Bacchis had not returned, and the Greek climbed up the steps
and stretched out on the portico, a broad terrace paved with blue
marble, over which the fluted columns supporting the pediment flung
oblique bars of shadow.

When Actaeon awoke he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Birds were
singing in the olive trees, and he heard voices near. As he arose he was
surprised to see that day had dawned, for it seemed but a few minutes
had passed since he fell asleep.

A woman, a patrician, stood not far away, smiling upon him. She was
robed in a flowing white linen mantle which fell to her feet in graceful
folds like the drapery of statues. A few curls of blonde hair fell over
her forehead. Her lips were painted red, and her black eyes, velvety,
and with a silky caress in their gaze, were surrounded by blue circles
suggesting a night of fatigue. Moving her arms beneath her mantle,
hidden ornaments jingled with silvery tones, and the toe of her sandal,
peeping from beneath the border of her garment, shone like a jewelled
star.

She was followed by two slender Celtiberian slaves, their brown,
swelling breasts almost bare, their limbs wrapped in multicolored cloth.
One carried a pair of white doves, the other bore on her head a basket
of roses.

Actaeon recognized Polyanthus, the Saguntine pilot, and also the perfumed
young gallant who had been on the wharf with another horseman when the
ship came in, standing near the handsome patrician.

The Greek arose, amazed at the beautiful apparition smiling upon him.

"Athenian," she said in Greek of the purest accent, "I am Sonnica, the
mistress of the ship which brought you hither. Polyanthus is my
freedman and he has done well in giving you passage, for he is aware of
my interest in your people. Who are you?"

"I am Actaeon, and I ask the gods to shower blessings upon you for your
kindness. May Venus guard your beauty while you live."

"Are you a navigator? Are you engaged in commerce? Are you traveling
about the world giving lessons in rhetoric and poetry?"

"I am a soldier, as were all my ancestors. My grandfather died in Italy
covering with his body the gr