to
the door, giving his arm to steady the steps of the older man.

IX.

THE BAIT.

Marcia crouched, huddled in the farthest corner of the cell, and
listened to the receding footsteps of the visitors. Then she heard new
sounds echoing through the house: the rushing feet of slaves descending
from their quarters, striving to gain their stations unobserved; the
sharp tongue of Calavius now loosed from the bonds of terror, and
rating them soundly for their unfaithfulness and cowardice; the patter
of excuses and protestations. In a few moments the quarters above
resounded with the shrieks and groans of those condemned to the lash;
for the wrath and indignation of Calavius, generally the mildest of
masters, were spurred to vindictive bitterness by a consciousness of
his late terror and abasement. "They were guilty of all crimes, and,
worst of all, of the rankest ingratitude. Let them learn that their
master was still strong enough to punish." So the scourges fell, and
the victims screamed and writhed.

All these things Marcia heard, but they meant little to a mind so full
of internal conflict as was hers. What was she to believe of herself?
Had she not marked out a course of self-devotion and sacrifice which
was to gain respite and safety for her country, revenge upon its
enemies? Had not others, notably Decius Magius, been forced
unwillingly to admit the possible efficiency of her plan? Yet now,
when the gods had shown her favour beyond all anticipation--had brought
the chosen quarry into her net--she had thrown all aside and yielded to
her womanly weakness, her instinct of modesty, her sense of personal
repulsion. What right had she to think of herself as a woman! He, for
whose love her sex had been dear to her, was gone--a pallid shade who
could no longer be sensitive to her beauty, a vague being sent far
hence into the land of the four rivers by these very men whom she had
devoted to destruction. What though the virtues that had beaten down
her resolves had been good once--good for Marcia the woman? They were
evil for that Marcia who had resolved to be a heroine, and who was now
learning how hard it is for the female to seek the latter crown without
losing the former. Again and again she struggled with herself, swayed
back and forth by the counter-currents of conflicting shames, until the
thought of death, as a final possibility, revived to steel her purpose.
The sacrifice and the shame would be sh