"He certainly would not submit to a man," replied the slave. "Artists,
you must know, would rather oppose ten of the most powerful men than one
weak woman, if she is only beautiful. As for the daughter of Archias--
thereby hangs a tale."

"Archias?" interrupted the girl. "The rich Alexandrian who owns the
great weaving house?"

"The very man."

"So it is his daughter who is keeping Hermon? And you say he is obliged
to serve her?"

"As men serve the Deity, to the utmost, or truth," replied the slave
importantly. "Archias, the father, it is true, imposed upon us the debt
which is most tardily paid, and which people, even in this country, call
'gratitude.' We are under obligations to the old man--there's no denying
it--and therefore also to his only child."

"For what?" Ledscha indignantly exclaimed, and the dark eyebrows which
met above her delicate nose contracted suspiciously. "I must know!"

"Must!" repeated the slave. "That word is a ploughshare which suits
only loose soil, and mine, now that my master is waiting for me, can not
be tilled even by the sharpest. Another time! But if, meanwhile, you
have any message for Hermon----"

"Nothing," she replied defiantly; but Bias, in a tone of the most eager
assent, exclaimed: "One friendly word, girl. You are the fairest among