This robe, which fitted as though it had been made for me, I put on, though I liked the look of it little.
Martina would have had me even remove my sword, but I refused, saying: "Except at the express order of the Empress, I and my sword are not parted." "Well, she said nothing about the sword, Olaf, so let it be.

All she said was that I must be careful that the robe matched the colour of the necklace you wear.

She cannot bear colours which jar upon each other, especially by lamp-light." "Am I a man," I asked angrily, "or a beast being decked for sacrifice ?" "Fie, Olaf, have you not yet forgotten your heathen talk?
Remember, I pray you, that you are now a Christian in a Christian land." "I thank you for reminding me of it," I replied; and that moment a chamberlain, entering hurriedly, commanded my presence.
"Good luck to you, Olaf," said Martina as I followed him.

"Be sure to tell me the news later--or to-morrow." Then the chamberlain led me, not into the audience hall, as I had expected, but to the private imperial dining chamber.

Here, reclining upon couches in the old Roman fashion, one on either side of a narrow table on which stood fruits and flagons of rich-hued Greek wine, were the two greatest people in the world, the Augusta Irene and the Augustus Constantine, her son.
She was wonderfully apparelled in a low-cut garment of white silk, over which fell a mantle of the imperial purple, and I noted that on her dazzling bosom hung that necklace of emerald beetles separated by golden shells which she had caused to be copied from my own.