If his sleep lasted till sunrise, the pardon for her people would be too late, and her father and Philip, chained to a hard bench, would have to ply heavy oars as galley slaves by the side of robbers and murderers.

How terribly then would her father's wish to use his strength be granted! Was Philip, the narrow-chested philosopher, capable of bearing the strain which had so often proved fatal to stronger men?
She must wake the dreaded man, the only man who could possibly help her.
She now raised her hand to lay it on his shoulder, but she half withdrew it.
It seemed to her as if it was not much less wicked to rob a sleeping man of his rest, his best cure, than to take the life of a living being.

It was not too late yet, for the harbor-chain would not be opened till the October sun had risen.

He might enjoy his slumbers a little longer.
With this conclusion she once more sank down and listened to the noises which broke the stillness of the night.
How hideous they were, how revolting they sounded! The vulgarest of the sleepers, old Adventus, absolutely sawed the air with his snoring.
The emperor's breathing was scarcely perceptible, and how nobly cut was the profile which she could see, the other side of his face leaning on the pillow! Had she any real reason to fear his awakening?
Perhaps he was quite unlike what Berenike thought him to be.

She remembered the sympathy she had felt for him when they had first met, and, in spite of all the trouble she had experienced since, she no longer felt afraid.