The lines emerged, rank after rank, from the dust-clouds. Behind them came more cavalry and then the light-armed troops, followed by wagons and a long train of pack animals. The streets of the Old City became animated again, though not with Ph[oe]nicians. The soldiers swarmed through the houses, choosing their quarters and freeing themselves from their burdens. Smoke began to curl up from the chimneys.
A group of men came down to the water front and made a long survey of the walls of the New City. Thais fixed her eyes upon them, leaning over the parapet. Suddenly she caught Artemisia's arm.
"Who is it? Where?" Artemisia asked, bewildered.
"Chares!" Thais replied. "Do you see that crimson cloak and his yellow hair? O my hero!"
Artemisia trembled and her cheek grew pale.
"If that is Chares, then Clearchus must be there too," she faltered. "Oh, Thais, are you sure?"
She strove to look, but the tears that dimmed her eyes prevented her from seeing anything clearly.
"I am certain," Thais replied. "Who else could it be? There is no other in the army so strong and handsome as he. Look! he is signalling to us."
The figure in crimson stood forward from the rest, his cloak, inflated by the wind, swelling back from his shoulders. He waved his hand toward the city. Thais tore off her saffron shawl and waved it in return, forgetting that, while he stood alone, to him she was one of thousands who were moving on the walls and the house-tops.
"I suppose you would bring them over if you could!" sneered a voice behind her. It was Phradates, who had approached unnoticed.
"Can you blame me if I want to win my wager?" Thais replied, smiling.
"I am half sorry I made it," the Ph[oe]nician said sullenly.
Thais saw that he was angry and she leaned toward him until he felt her warm breath upon his cheek.
"If I lose, I will pay!" she whispered, in a tone that only he could hear.
"It will not be long," he returned confidently.
"I would not be too sure of that," she replied, with a blush, giving him a sidelong glance under her lashes.
Phradates could not understand why he had not long ago given free rein to his passion. More than once he had called himself a fool for his forbearance and resolved in his own mind to end it; but when the time came for putting his plans into execution, he found them halted by an indefinable barrier that he could not break. It surprised him that this could have happened. All his life it had never occurred to him to restrain himself. He was master of one of the greatest fortunes in Tyre, and with him to wish was to have. Moreover, he had learned Thais' history, so far as it was generally known, and it seemed to him ridiculous that an Athenian dancing girl should succeed so long in holding him at arm's length. But now he must keep his oath.