suitable companions of the lady of the house. Whilst yet at some
distance, Basil had heard a feminine voice rising to shrillness, and as
he approached the group he found a discussion going on which threatened
to become more than vivacious. The shrill speaker he had met here
before, who she was, he knew not, save that she bore the name of
Muscula.

'You--you--you!' this lady was exclaiming contemptuously. 'You say
this, and you say that! Mother of God! What do _you_ know about racing?
When were you last in the circus at Constantinople? At eight years old
you once told me. You have a good memory if you can remember as far
back as that!'

She shrieked a laugh, which no one else joined in. Heliodora, to whom
the speech was addressed, affected to smile as in lofty tolerance of
infantine pettishness. At this moment Basil stepped up to her, and
kissed her hand; As though for contrast with Muscula's utterance, she
greeted him in the softest tone her voice could compass, inviting him
with a gesture to take a place at her side, or rather at her feet, for
she was reclining on a long couch. Heliodora's robe was of hyacinth
blue, broidered in silver thread with elaborate designs. Bracelets,
chains, and rings shone about her in the wonted profusion. Above the
flat coils of her hair lay a little bunch of grapes between two vine
leaves, wrought in gold, and at her waist hung a dagger, the silver
sheath chased with forms of animals. Standing behind her the little
Anglian slave Laetus gently fanned her with a peacock's tail, or
sprinkled her with perfume from a vial; the air was heavy with Sabaean
odours.

'Ah, here is lord Basil!' pursued Muscula with a mischievous glance at
Vivian. 'He has lived at Constantinople lately--not thirty or forty
years ago. Tell us, sweet lord'--she bent towards him with large,
rolling eyes--'was it not Helladius who won for the Greens when Thomas
the Blue was overturned and killed?'

'For all I know it may have been,' replied Basil carelessly; he had
scarce heard the question.

'I swear you are wrong, Muscula,' put in the third lady. 'The lord
Basil cares naught for such things, and would not contradict you lest
you should scratch his face--so dangerous you look, much more like a
cat than a mouse. By the beard of Holy Peter! should not Heliodora
know, who, though she is too young to remember it herself, has heard of
it many a time from her father. You think too much of yourself, O
Muscula, since you