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I prefer to call it so. In Athens we used to speculate much upon Nemesis.—My victory was so overwhelming, Helena; my position had, as it were, got out of balance; I do not know

Oh, speak, speak; you put me on the rack!

It was a trifle, I tell you. I ordered the captive Knodomar to be brought before me, in the presence of the army. Before the battle, he had threatened that I should be flayed alive when I fell into his hands. Now he came towards me with faltering steps, trembling in every limb. Crushed by disaster, as the barbarians are apt to be, he cast himself down before me, embraced my knees, shed tears, and begged for his life.

His mighty frame quivering with dread—I can see the prostrate Knodomar.—Did you kill him, my beloved?

I could not kill that man. I granted him his life, and promised to send him as a prisoner to Rome.

Without torturing him?

Prudence bade me deal mercifully with him. But then—I cannot tell how it happened—with a