.
Zaemon, you remember, was governor of the swineherd's province, and
Zaemon's wife saw Phorenice and took her away to adopt and bring up as
her own. It is said that the swineherd and his woman objected; perhaps
they did; anyway, I know they died; and Phorenice was taught the arts
and graces, and brought up as a daughter of the Priestly Clan."

"But still she was an adopted daughter only," I objected.

"The omission of the 'adopted' was her will at an early age," said Tatho
dryly, "and she learnt early to have her wishes carried into fact. It
was notorious that before she had grown to fifteen years she ruled not
only the women of the household, but Zaemon also, and the province that
was beyond Zaemon."

"Zaemon was learned," I said, "and a devout follower of the Gods, and
searcher into the higher mysteries; but, as a ruler, he was always a
flabby fellow."

"I do not say that opportunities have not come usefully in Phorenice's
way, but she has genius as well. For her to have raised herself at all
from what she was, was remarkable. Not one woman out of a thousand,
placed as she was, would have grown to be aught higher than a mere wife
of some sturdy countryman, who was sufficiently simple to care nothing
for pedigree. But look at Phorenice: it was her whim to take exercise
as a man-at-arms and practise with all the utensils of war; and then,
before any one quite knows how or why it happened, a rebellion had
broken out in the province, and here was she, a slip of a girl, leading
Zaemon's troops."

"Zaemon, when I knew him, was a mere derision in the field."

"Hear me on. Phorenice put down the rebellion in masterly fashion, and
gave the conquered a choice between sword and service. They fell into
her ranks at once, and were faithful to her from that moment. I tell
you, Deucalion, there is a marvellous fascination about the woman."

"Her present historian seems to have felt it."

"Of course I have. Every one who sees her comes under her spell. And
frankly, I am in love with her also, and look upon my coming here as
detestable exile. Every one near to Phorenice, high and low, loves her
just the same, even though they know it may be her whim to send them to
execution next minute."

Perhaps I let my scorn of this appear.

"You feel contempt for our weakness? You were always a strong man,
Deucalion."

"At any rate you see me still unmarried. I have found no time to palter
with the fripperies of women."

"Ah, but