“I did, and I meant it.”

“See that thou keepest thy word.  I am she!” And snatching the cup from the table, she quaffed it to the last drop, and instantly expired in convulsions.

We pass over the dismay of the banqueters, the arrest and confession of Helladia, the general amazement at the revelation of her sex, the frantic grief of the Emperor.

Basil’s sorrow was sincere and durable.  On an early occasion he thus addressed his courtiers: 

“I cannot determine which of these two women loved me best:  she who gave her life for me, or she who would have taken mine.  The first made the greater sacrifice; the second did most violence to her feelings.  What say ye?”

The courtiers hesitated, feeling themselves incompetent judges in problems of this nature.  At length the youngest exclaimed: 

“O Emperor, how can we tell thee, unless we know what thou thinkest thyself?”

“What!” exclaimed Basil, “an honest man in the Court of Byzantium!  Let his mouth be filled with gold immediately!”

This operation having been performed, and the precious metal distributed in fees among the proper officers, Basil thus addressed the object of his favour: 

“Manuel, thy name shall henceforth be Chrysostomus, in memory of what has just taken place.  In further token of my approbation of thy honesty, I will confer upon thee the hand of the only other respectable person about the Court, namely, of Helladia.  Take her, my son, and raise up a race of heroes!  She shall be amply dowered out of what remains of the property of Photinius.”

“Gennadius,” whispered a cynical courtier to his neighbour, “I hope thou admirest the magnanimity of our sovereign, who deems he is performing a most generous action in presenting Manuel with his cast-off mistress, who has tried to poison him, and with whom he has been at his wits’ end what to do, and in dowering her at the expense of another.”

The snarl was just; but it is just also to acknowledge that Basil, as a prince born in the purple, had not the least idea that he was laying himself open to any such criticism.  He actually did feel the manly glow of self-approbation which accompanies the performance of a good action:  an emotion which no one else present, except Chrysostomus, was so much as able to conceive.  It is further to be remarked that the old courtier who sneered at Chrysostomus was devoured by envy of his good fortune, and would have given his right eye to have been in his place.

“Chrysostomus,” pursued Basil, “we must now think of the hapless Photinius.  That unfortunate father is doubtless in an agony of grief which renders the forfeiture of the remains of his possessions indifferent to him.  Thou, his successor therein, mayest be regarded as in some sort his son-in-law.  Go, therefore, and comfort him, and report to me upon his condition.”

Chrysostomus accordingly proceeded to the monastery, where he was informed that Photinius had retired with his spiritual adviser, and could on no account be disturbed.