I shall not
return. Do you think I will leave you here to laugh at me? You will
go, or, to-morrow, Baal-Melkarth shall speak the word, and, before
midday, Hannibal shall give orders to march to Rome. Why do you think
I have gathered this wealth? Look! I have risked all for it, and you
shall not escape."

Exhausted by his rapid vehemence, he stood back, breathing hard and
trying to smile.

"Ah! moon of Tanis, you will come," he murmured, holding out his arms.
"We shall escape to Sicily--to Greece--to Egypt--to the far East. We
shall be rich with the spoils of fools--"

A slight scraping noise came to their ears, and both started. Iddilcar
sprang swiftly to the entrance of the room, but the lamp in the hall
had gone out, and his eyes saw nothing in the darkness. Uncertain what
to do, he looked back to where Marcia stood, pale and rigid. His voice
and hands trembled as he repeated in a loud whisper:--

"You will come? You will be ready?"

"Yes," she said, "I will come;" but she did not look at him, as she
spoke, only she caught the triumphant gleam of his eyes; a thousand
weird lights seemed to whirl around her, and she felt herself sinking.
It seemed, for a moment, as if a slave in a gray tunic was supporting
her, and then all consciousness fled.

XI.

THE SLAVE.

It was an hour past midnight, when Marcia first knew the agony of
returning reason. The gong in the Forum had just struck. Where was
she? Surely in her own apartment! How had she come there? Then,
slowly, the memory of yesterday grew clear--the awful duty of
to-morrow. With eyelids fast shut, as if dreading to open them to the
darkness, she buried her throbbing temples beneath the rich Campanian
coverlid. She could still see the eyes of Iddilcar gleaming wolfish
amid his jewels; could see him standing in the doorway, as he turned
from that startled rush in pursuit of what had been, doubtless, only a
whisper of their imaginations. He had said he would come for
her--before daybreak--and she must be ready. Later, she could approach
death with suppliant hands, but now she must be ready. Her life was
not her own yet. It was her country's. Later, the shade of Lucius
would beckon. Surely he would forgive her for having avenged him. But
how had she reached her room? Had it been Calavius or the slaves who
had found her? did they suspect? Then she remembered the man who had
seemed to catch her as she fell. Where could Iddilcar