hand, declaring that he did not need their sympathy; the pilot had
reported that he was living in magnificence and pleasure, and the people
in the capital honoured and praised him as if he were a god.

Thereupon she had laughed shrilly and reviled so bitterly the
contemptible blind Fortune that remains most loyal to those who deserve
to perish in the deepest misery, that Bias avoided repeating her words
to his master.

The news of Myrtilus's legacy had not reached her ears, and Bias, too,
had just heard of it for the first time.

Ledscha's object had been to relieve her troubled soul by attacks upon
the man whom she hated, but she suddenly turned to the master and servant
to ask if they desired to obtain their liberty.

Oh, how quickly a hopeful "Yes" reached the ears of the gloomy woman!
how ready both were to swear, by a solemn oath, to fulfil the conditions
the Biamite desired to impose!

As soon as opportunity offered, both were to leave the Hydra with one
other person who, like Bias and herself, understood how to mange a boat.

The favourable moment soon came. One moonless night, when the steering
of the Hydra was intrusted to the Gaul, Ledscha waked the two prisoners
and, with the Gaul Lutarius, Myrtilus, and the slave, entered the boat,
which conveyed them to the shore without accident or interruption.

Bias knew the name of the place where it had anchored, it is true, but
the oath which Ledscha had made him swear there was so terrible that he