"The door is ajar--open--I can see it is." She fell on her knees by the side of the lifeless form, raised the head, and saw--the beautiful, deathlike face of the crazy Persian slave.

She felt her hand wet with the blood that had soaked the hapless girl's thick, fair hair, and she shuddered; but she resisted her impulse of horror and loathing, and perceiving some dark stains on the torn peplos she pulled it aside and saw that the white bosom was bleeding from deep wounds made in the tender flesh by the cruel fangs of the hound.
Paula's heart thrilled with indignation, grief and pity.

He--he whom she had only yesterday held to be the epitome of every manly perfection--Orion, was guilty of so foul a deed! He, of whose unflinching, dauntless courage she had heard so much, had fled like a coward, and had left the victim to her fate--twice a victim to him! But something must be done besides lamenting and raging, and wondering how in one human soul there could be room for so much that was noble and fine with so much that was shameful and cruel.

She must save the girl, she must seek help, for Mandane's bosom still faintly rose and fell under Paula's tremulous fingers.
The freedman's brave heart would not allow him to fly to leave her with the injured girl; he flung his shoes on the floor, raised the senseless form, and propped it against one of the columns that stood round the hall.

It was not till his mistress had repeated her orders that he hurried away.