clasped the covers about me. He couldn't be serious. I had given him my love, such as it was. He had the enjoyment of my body while it pleased him. He could not kill me.
I protested all this in a high whine, but he interrupted me, "No, you're right. I cannot kill you. Even if you are dead already . . .even if it is the most merciful thing, I can't bring myself to do it." He put the candle down, picked up his cloak from the couch facing mine, threw it haphazardly over his shoulders and said, "I'll be back tomorrow morning. Be gone when I'm back. I'll give instructions for you to be left alone till then." He opened the door, and, framed in the muted light of the central courtyard, the faint light that made my eyes hurt and my skin smart, he turned around and said, "And Hylas, everyone in this house, to the least slave, better be alive and in good health when I return. Or I swear by Mars I'll search you out, drag you from your den and hold you in midday light till you shrivel and die."
He