avail. She saw him
crawl to her and press her robe to his lips; she heard him mumbling and
whining like some animal, and she despised him and grew stronger in the
light of her growing self-esteem. At last she spoke.

"It is well. I have listened and determined. Yes, you are right. I
have wished that the army should not march north; I have wished that it
should winter in Campania. I am a Roman; why should I not wish it?
You say you can accomplish this. Do so, and you shall have your
reward."

Iddilcar sprang to his feet and threw out his arms to draw her to him;
the breath came from his chest in short gasps; his eyes were suffused
with tears through which he saw something glitter; and his hands,
clutching and unclutching, caught only air. Then his arms fell to his
sides; he paused and looked stupidly at her. She had sprung back and
was facing him defiantly with a short dagger raised to strike.

"Not so soon, slave," she said, and her voice rang in his ears like
steel. "He who would reap must first sow."

"You do not love me," he said sheepishly, gnashing his teeth because he
knew the foolishness of his words, and yet could say no others.

She laughed; then her face grew sober.

"No," she said; "I do not love you. Why should I? We love those who
serve us well--"

"Ah! but I have promised," he broke in. "I am giving you everything."

"I want but one thing," she said, while the lines of her mouth
hardened; "and, for that, I take no promise."

He lowered his head to avoid the straight flash of her eyes.

"It is I, then, who must trust--always I," he muttered. "How do I know
you will give yourself when I earn you?--how do I know you will not
kill yourself with that dagger? for you hate me," and then, with sudden
fierceness; "why should I not take my own? What hinders me?"

"This," said Marcia, touching the point with her finger.

Iddilcar shuddered.

"Listen now," she began, "and be reasonable. I have named my price,
and you have said it is not too much. Why speak of love or hate? Earn
me and take me."

"Yes," he echoed; for he was braver when his eyes studied the pavement;
"why speak of love or hate? It is you I want--your kisses, your
embraces. Who shall say that hatred may not flavour them better even
than love?" and he sneered. "Ah! but how shall I know?"

"I am a Roman, and I have promised. Fulfil your Punic word as well,
and I swear you shall have your pay, so surely,"--and then