Artemisia did not wait to be summoned. She descended the stairs and went in among the soldiers.

"Carry her to the room above, and I will see that she is cared for,"

she said quietly.

The young captain to whom the execution of Memnon's order had been entrusted looked at her with frank admiration.

"By Zeus!" he said, "I wish I had been run over myself. Take her up, litter and all," he added to his men, "and be quick about it."

With some difficulty the soldiers carried the litter with its burden up the staircase.

"If he makes any trouble for you on account of this, report it to the general," the captain said to Artemisia, indicating Iphicrates with a nod. "And tell her when she recovers," he continued, nodding toward the litter, "that Memnon desired to express his regrets."

Without waiting for an answer, he wheeled and tramped down the stairs, followed by his men. Artemisia was already bending over the young woman. There was a bruise where the back of her head had struck the pavement, but otherwise she seemed to have escaped unhurt. Her wonderfully thick hair had evidently broken the force of the blow. She recovered her senses at the first touch of the cold water with which Artemisia bathed her temples.

"Where am I?" she asked, opening her eyes.

"You are safe and with friends," Artemisia assured her.

"Am I much hurt?" she asked, without attempting to move.

"I think not," Artemisia said. "Your head is bruised."

"Is my face scarred?" was the next question.

"It is not even scratched," Artemisia replied, smiling.

The strange woman's lips parted in a responsive smile. "Then it might have been worse," she said.

With Artemisia's assistance she walked to a couch, where the young girl made her comfortable with pillows. Presently, under Artemisia's ministrations, she fell asleep. Artemisia sat watching her even breathing and wondering who she could be. A great ruby flamed upon her finger, and heavy chains of gold encircled her white throat. Her tiny feet were shod with silken sandals and her yellow chiton disclosed the rounded grace of her delicate limbs and the willowy suppleness of her figure. She must be some great lady, in spite of her youth, Artemisia thought, innocently, and she felt drawn to her in a manner that she hardly understood. If only she would stay, she would be a friend in whom confidence might be placed and whose sympathy would be a help.

But of course she would go away as soon as she was able to move.

Artemisia sighed in her loneliness.

When the stranger woke, however, she seemed in no hurry to go. She declared that the pain in her head had left her, and, turning lazily on her side, she studied her surroundings.

"Whose house is this?" she asked.

"It belongs to Iphicrates," Artemisia said.

"To Iphicrates?" the strange woman replied with sudden interest and in evident astonishment. "And--are you his daughter?"

"No; I am of Athens; my name is Artemisia," the girl replied.

Her companion's head fell back among the pillows and her gaze rested upon Artemisia's face. So intent was the look that Artemisia grew uncomfortable under it.

"Why do you look at me so strangely?" she asked at last.

"Pardon me," the other replied, letting her eyes fall. "I have heard of you."

"Then you, too, are of Athens?" the girl cried joyfully, throwing herself on her knees beside the couch and taking the strange woman's hand. "You have heard of Clearchus? Is he--living?"

"He is living, and he loves thee," the stranger replied, as though reading what was in her mind.

A great gladness rushed through Artemisia's being. An immeasurable load was suddenly lifted from her heart. She put her face down upon the edge of the couch and wept for sheer gratitude. The strange woman said nothing, but her hand rested lightly on the soft brown hair, and she stroked the bent head with gentle fingers.

The door opened without noise, and the bulk of Iphicrates advanced gradually into the room. As his cunning eyes took in the scene before him an anxious look overspread his face.

"I came to see if you were better," he muttered, in a tone of apology.

The strange woman raised her body slightly on the couch and extended her hand toward the door.

"Go!" she said briefly.

Iphicrates hesitated and cleared his throat, trying to meet the scornful gaze directed upon him. Finally he mustered up his courage with an effort.

"This is my house," he said doggedly.

"Go," the stranger repeated in a tone of unutterable contempt. "Must I speak again?"

Iphicrates slowly turned and went, slinking from the room before the blaze of her anger like a beaten hound.

"Why are you so hard upon him?" Artemisia asked.

"Because he deserves it," the stranger said. "Has he not held you captive here?"

"Who art thou who knowest so much of my affairs?" the girl demanded suddenly.

"I am thy--" The word "sister" trembled upon her tongue, but she checked it. "I am thy protectress," she said. "Men call me Thais."

A blush rose to her cheek as she uttered the name and felt the clear blue eyes of the young girl upon her own.

"Thais?" Artemisia repeated, searching in her memory. "I have heard the name in Athens, but I forget when and where. I think they said you were beautiful, and indeed you are."

"Is that all they said of me?" Thais returned.

"I think that is all; I do not remember more," Artemisia replied.

Thais felt relieved. Her sister would learn soon enough who and what she was. She hoped that when the knowledge came Artemisia would love her enough to grant her forgiveness. She had broken with her old life.

Why drag it with her wherever she went?

"Why did you come here?" Artemisia continued.

"I came in search of you, and the Gods have given you to me," Thais said.

Artemisia nestled beside her companion on the broad couch while Thais told her of all that had happened in Athens since she had been carried away by Syphax and his crew. In her narration she omitted the feast in the house of Clearchus and passed lightly over details that might have given Artemisia a clew to her identity. She described Clearchus'

despair at her loss and his vain effort to find some trace of her. She told how he had consulted the oracle and of her own adventure in Thebes when Chares had given his fortune to save her from Phradates. Then the young men had joined the army and left her alone in Athens.

"Chares consented that I should meet him here," she went on. "He said that women would not be allowed to follow the army to its first battle.

It is there the greatest danger lies; for if they win there, they will hold all the western provinces of the Persian empire."