"Take back those words!" cried Marcus, beside himself and clenching his
fist. "But that is just like you! Your impure eyes and heart defile
purity itself, and see spots even in the sun. Nothing is too bad for
a 'singing girl,' I know. But that is just the marrow of the matter; it
is from that very curse that I mean to save her. If you can accuse her
of anything, speak; if not, and if you do not want to appear a base
slanderer in my eyes, take back the words you have just spoken!"

"Oh! I take them back of course," said Demetrius indifferently. "I know
nothing of your beauty beyond what she has herself said to me and you and
Cynegius and his Secretaries--with her pretty, saucy eyes. But the
language of the eye, they say, is not always to be depended on; so take
it as unsaid. And, if I understood you rightly, you do not even know
where the singers are hiding? If you have no objection, I will help you
to seek them out."

"That is as you please," answered Marcus hotly. "All your mockery will
not prevent my doing my duty."

"Very right, very right," said his brother. "Perhaps this damsel is
unlike all the other singing-girls with whom I used so often to spend a
jolly evening in my younger days. Once, at Barca, I saw a white raven--
but perhaps after all it was only a dove. Your opinion, in this case, is
at any rate better founded than mine, for I never thought twice about the
girl and you did.--But it is late; till to-morrow, Marcus."

The brothers parted for the night, but when Demetrius found himself alone
he walked up and down the room, shaking his head doubtfully. Presently,
when his body-slave came in to pack for him, he called out crossly: