y. He cried out to
Cornelia to save him, he confessed his villanies, and vowed repentance
a score of times all in one breath. But Cornelia lived in an age when
the wisest and best--whatever the philosophers might theorize--thought
it no shame to reward evil for evil, not less than good for good. When
Demetrius asked her, "Shall I spare this man, lady?" she replied: "As
he has made my life bitter for many days, why should I spare him a
brief moment's pain? Death ends all woe!"

There was a dull splash over the side, a circle spreading out in the
water, wider and wider, until it could be seen no more among the
waves.

"There were heavy stones to his feet, Captain," reported Eurybiades,
"and the cords will hold."

"It is well," answered Demetrius, very grave....

Later in the day the boat returned from Puteoli, and with it sundry
small round-bellied bags, which the pirate prince duly stowed away in
his strong chest. The ransomed captives were put on board a small
unarmed yacht that had come out to receive them. Demetrius himself
handed the ladies over the side, and salaamed to them as the craft
shot off from the flagship. Then the pirates again weighed anchor, the
great purple[171] square sail of each of the ships was cast to the
piping breeze, the triple tiers of silver-plated oars[171] began to
rise and fall in unison to the soft notes of the piper. The land grew
fainter and more faint, and the three ships sprang away, speeding over
the broad breast of the sea.

[171] These were real affectations of the Cilician pirates.

That night Cornelia and Fabia held each other in their arms for a long
time. They were leaving Rome, leaving Italy, their closest friend at
hand was only the quondam slave-boy Agias, yet Cornelia, at least, was
happy--almost as happy as the girl Artemisia; and when she lay down to
sleep, it was to enjoy the first sound slumber, unhaunted by dread of
trouble, for nigh unto half a year.

Chapter XX

Cleopatra

I

A "clear singing zephyr" out of the west sped the ships on their way.
Down they fared along the coast, past the isle of Capreae, then,
leaving the Campanian main behind, cut the blue billows of the
Tyrrhenian Sea; all that day and night, and more sail and oar swept
them on. They flew past the beaches of Magna Graecia, then, betwixt
Scylla and Charybdis, and Sicilia and its smoke-beclouded cone of AEtna
faded out of view, and the long, dark swells of the Ionian Sea caught