"I hear nothing," he answered; "you are over-excited. Come into the house."
Supported by his arm she climbed the steps, hewn in the rock, which led to the tower-like, loftily-situated villa. Of the gardens, which, as she distinctly remembered, extended on both sides of the narrow path, scarcely the outlines of the rows of trees could be distinguished in the mist.
At last they reached the lofty entrance, a bronze door with posts of black marble.
Dolios knocked upon it with the hilt of his sword; the stroke reverberated dully through the vaulted halls--the door sprang open.
Amalaswintha remembered how she had once entered this door, then almost choked with wreaths of flowers, at the side of her young husband; she remembered with what friendly warmth they had been welcomed by the door-keeper and his wife, at that time also a newly-married couple.
The dark-looking slave with tangled grey hair, who now stood before her with a lantern and a bunch of keys, was a stranger to her.
"Where is Fuscina, the wife of the late ostiarius? Is she no more in the house?" she asked.
"She was long since drowned in the lake," answered the door-keeper indifferently; and went forward with the light.
The Princess followed shuddering; she could not help thinking of the cold black waves which had so dismally licked the planks of the little boat.
They went on through arched courts and pillared halls; all were empty, as if the inhabitants were dead. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the deserted rooms--the whole villa seemed one vast catacomb.
"The house is uninhabited? I need a female slave."
But at this moment a violent knocking was heard at the outer door.
"What was that?" she asked, catching Dolios by the sleeve.
She heard the banging of the heavy door as it was closed again.
"It was only some one demanding admittance," said the ostiarius, as he returned and unlocked the door of the room intended for the fugitive Princess.
The close air of a chamber which had not been opened for a long time half suffocated her; but she recognised with emotion the tortoise-shell lining of the walls; it was the same room which she had occupied twenty years ago.
Overpowered by the recollection, she sank upon the small couch, which was covered with dark-coloured cushions.