I am wretched just in proportion to the greatness of my rank;" then she added to herself, "_Hei!_ but how wretched then the gods must be!" And then again she smiled at admitting for an instant that there were any gods at all; had not her philosophy taught her much better?
So at last Cornelia turned over the pillows for the last time, and finally slept, in heavy, dreamless slumber.
* * * * * Cornelia did not know at what watch of the night she awoke; awoke, not suddenly, but slowly, as consciousness stole over her that _something_ was happening.

It was a dark, cloudy night, yet a strange red light was glinting faintly through the windows and making very dim panels on the rugs of the floor.

There was a bare gleam of fire from the charcoal in the portable metal stove that stood in a remote corner of the room to dispel the chill of night.

Artemisia was stirring in her sleep, and saying something--probably in a one-sided dream-dialogue.
Cornelia opened her eyes, shut them again; peeped forth a second time, and sat up in bed.

There was a confused din without, many voices speaking at once, all quite unintelligible, though now and then she caught a few syllables of Greek.