from one thing to another, like a leaf before the wind, bereft of every
stay or holdfast, defenceless even against the foolish vagaries of her
own nature. Everyone, thought the girl to herself, distrusted and
suspected her, and, solely because she was one of a family of singers,
dared to insult and dishonor her. A strange spite against Fate, against
her uncle and aunt, against herself even, surged up in her, and with it
a vague longing for another and a better life.

Thus meditating she looked down into the water, not noticing what was
going on around her, till the slave-woman, addressing her by name,
pointed to a carriage drawn up at the side of the road that divided the
grove of the Temple of Isis from the ship-yard, and which the Egyptian
believed that she recognized as belonging to Marcus. Dada started up and
ran off to the cabin to fetch her shoes, but everything in the shape of a
sandal had vanished, and Herse had been wise when she had looked at those
of the Egyptian, for Dada did the same and would not have hesitated to
borrow them if they had been a little less dirty and clumsy.

Herse, no doubt, had played her this trick, and it was easy to guess why!
It was only to divert her suspicions that the false woman had been so
affectionate at parting. It was cheating, treachery-cruel and shameful!
She, who had always submitted like a lamb--but this was too much--this
she could not bear--this!... The slave-woman now followed her to desire
her to come up on deck; a new visitor had appeared on the scene, an old
acquaintance and fellow-voyager: Demetrius, Marcus' elder brother.

At any other time she would have made him gladly welcome, as a companion
and comfort in her solitude; but he had chosen an evil hour for his visit
and his proposals, as the girl's red cheeks and tearful eyes at once told
him.