When it ceased, he could hear his heart beating.
Summoned at length to the lady's presence, he found her lying in the chamber of the Hermaphrodite.

A strange odour floated in the air, overcoming that of wonted perfumes.
Faint with a sudden nausea, Marcian performed no courtesy, but stood regarding the living woman much as he had gazed at the face in marble, absent and sombre-browed.
'What now ?' were Heliodora's first words, her smile fading in displeasure.
'Must we needs converse in your torture-chamber ?' asked Marcian.
'Are your senses more delicate than mine ?' 'It seems so.

I could wish I had chosen another hour for visiting you.' 'It was well chosen,' said Heliodora, regarding him fixedly.

'This slave I have chastised, shall I tell you of what he was guilty?
He has a blabbing tongue.' 'I see not how that concerns me,' was his cold reply, as he met her look with steady indifference.
From her lounging attitude Heliodora changed suddenly to one in which, whilst seated, she bent forward as though about to spring at him.
'How comes it that Bessas knows every word that has passed between us ?' broke fiercely from her lips.
In an instant Marcian commanded himself, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed.
'That is a question,' he said, 'to put to your astrologer, your oneirocritic, your genethliac.

I profess not to read mysteries.' 'Liar!' she shot out.