The shrill speaker he had met here before, who she was,
he knew not, save that she bore the name of Muscula.
'You--you--you!' this lady was exclaiming contemptuously. 'You
say this, and you say that! Mother of God! What do _you_ know about
racing? When were you last in the circus at Constantinople? At eight
years old you once told me. You have a good memory if you can
remember as far back as that!'
She shrieked a laugh, which no one else joined in. Heliodora, to
whom the speech was addressed, affected to smile as in lofty
tolerance of infantine pettishness. At this moment Basil stepped up
to her, and kissed her hand; As though for contrast with Muscula's
utterance, she greeted him in the softest tone her voice could
compass, inviting him with a gesture to take a place at her side, or
rather at her feet, for she was reclining on a long couch.
Heliodora's robe was of hyacinth blue, broidered in silver thread
with elaborate designs. Bracelets, chains, and rings shone about her
in the wonted profusion. Above the flat coils of her hair lay a
little bunch of grapes between two vine leaves, wrought in gold, and
at her waist hung a dagger, the silver sheath chased with forms of
animals.
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