falsity; she had schemed against the schemer; and, in the other tray of the balance she had done these things for love of him, out of a deep and all-powerful ambition to place him, Milo the slave, in the high place of the wanton ingrate who had deserted her people. And the thought hurt him now; he had not yet yielded her the kiss she craved. Even now the little gold-tinted one might be cold in death, denied that small consolation because of his obstinate heart.

He ran along the tunnel and burst through the great chamber, cursing the idle slaves into silence when they cried their helpless queries at him. And straight to Pascherette he sped, to fling himself down by her side and seize her tiny, moist hand in frantic appeal.

“Pascherette!” he whispered with a dry sob.