raised herself at all from what she was, was remarkable. Not one
woman out of a thousand, placed as she was, would have grown to be
aught higher than a mere wife of some sturdy countryman, who was
sufficiently simple to care nothing for pedigree. But look at
Phorenice: it was her whim to take exercise as a man-at-arms and
practise with all the utensils of war; and then, before any one
quite knows how or why it happened, a rebellion had broken out in
the province, and here was she, a slip of a girl, leading Zaemon's
troops."

"Zaemon, when I knew him, was a mere derision in the field."

"Hear me on. Phorenice put down the rebellion in masterly
fashion, and gave the conquered a choice between sword and service.
They fell into her ranks at once, and were faithful to her from
that moment. I tell you, Deucalion, there is a marvellous
fascination about the woman."

"Her present historian seems to have felt it."

"Of course I have. Every one who sees her comes under her
spell. And frankly, I am in love with her also, and look upon my
coming here as detestable exile. Every one near to Phorenice, high
and low, loves her just the same, even though they know it may be
her whim to send them to execution next minute."

Perhaps I let my scorn of this appear.

"You feel contempt for our weakness? You were always a strong
man, Deucalion."