[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D. W. ]

ARACHNE

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Outside the door of the tent Hermon was trying to banish Althea's imagefrom his mind. How foolishly he had overestimated last night the valueof this miserable actress, who as a woman had lost all charm for him--even as a model for his Arachne!

He would rather have appeared before his pure friend with unsightlystains on his robe than while mastered by yearning for the Thracian. 

The first glance at Daphne's beloved face, the first words of hergreeting, taught him that he should find with her everything for whichhe longed. 

In simple, truthful words she reproached him for having neglected herto the verge of incivility the evening before, but there was no trace ofbitterness or resentment in the accusation, and she gave Hermon littletime for apology, but quickly gladdened him with words of forgiveness. 

In the opinion of her companion Chrysilla, Daphne ought to have kept thecapricious artist waiting much longer for pardon. True, the cautiouswoman took no part in the conversation afterward, but she kept her chargein sight while she was skilfully knotting the fringe into a cloth whichshe had woven herself. On account of her favourite Philotas, it was wellfor Daphne to be aware that she was watched. 

Chrysilla was acquainted with life, and knew that Eros never mingles morearbitrarily in the intercourse of a young couple than when, after a longseparation, there is anything whatever to forgive. 

Besides, many words which the two exchanged escaped her hearing, for theytalked in low tones, and it was hot in the tent. Often the fatigue shefelt after the sleepless night bowed her head, still comely with itsunwrinkled face, though she was no longer young; then she quickly raisedit again. 

Neither Daphne nor Hermon noticed her. The former at once perceived thatsomething was weighing on the sculptor's mind, but he did not need anylong inquiry. He had come to confide his troubles to her, and she kindlylightened the task for him by asking why he had not gone to breakfastwith the Pelusinians. 

"Because I am not fit for gay company today, " was the reply. 

"Again dissatisfied with Fate?"

"True, it has given me small cause for contentment of late. "

"Put in place of Fate the far-seeing care of the gods, and you willaccept what befalls you less unkindly. "

"Let us stick to us mortals, I entreat you. "

"Very well, then. Your Demeter does not fully satisfy you. "

A discontented shrug of the shoulders was the reply. 

"Then work with twofold zeal upon the Arachne. "

"Although one model I hoped to obtain forsook me, and my soul isestranged from the other. "

"Althea?" she asked eagerly, and he nodded assent. 

Daphne clapped her hands joyfully, exclaiming so loudly that Chrysilla'shead sprang up with a jerk. "It could not help being so! O Hermon! howanxious I have been! Now, I thought, when this horrible womanrepresented the transformation into the spider with such repulsiveaccuracy, Hermon will believe that this is the true, and therefore theright, ideal; nay, I was deceived myself while gazing. But, eternalgods! as soon as I imagined this Arachne in marble or chryselephantinework, what a painful feeling overpowered me!"

"Of course!" he replied in an irritated tone. "The thirst for beauty, towhich you all succumb, would not have much satisfaction to expect fromthis work. "

"No, no, no!" Daphne interrupted in a louder tone than usual, and withthe earnest desire to convince him. "Precisely because I transportedmyself into your tendency, your aspirations, I recognised the danger. O Hermon! what produced so sinister an effect by the wavering light ofthe lamps and torches, while the thunderstorm was rising--the strands ofhair, the outspread fingers, the bewildered, staring blue eyes--do younot feel yourself how artificial, how unnatural it all was? Thistransformation was only a clever trick of acting, nothing more. Before aquiet spectator, in the pure, truthful light of Apollo, the foe of alldeception, what would this Arachne probably become? Even now--I havealready said so--when I imagine her executed in marble or in gold andivory! Beauty? Who would expect to find in the active, constantlytoiling weaver, the mortal daughter of an industrious dyer in purple, thecalm, refreshing charm of divine women? I at least am neither foolishnor unjust enough to do so. The degree of beauty Althea possesses wouldentirely satisfy me for the Arachne. But when I imagine a plastic workfaithful to the model of yesterday evening--though I have seen a greatdeal with my own eyes, and am always ready to defer to riper judgment--I would think, while looking at it: This statue came to the artist fromthe stage, but never from Nature. Such would be my view, and I am notone of the initiated. But the adepts! The King, with his thoroughconnoisseurship and fine taste, my father, and the other famous judges, how much more keenly they would perceive and define it!"

Here she hesitated, for the blood had left Hermon's cheeks, and she sawwith surprise the deep impression which the candid expression of heropinion had produced upon the artist, usually so independent and disposedto contradiction. Her judgment had undoubtedly disturbed, nay, perhapsconvinced him; but at the same time his features revealed such deepdepression that, far from rejoicing in so rare a success, she patted hisarm like an affectionate sister, saying: "You have not yet found time torealize calmly what yesterday dazzled us all--and you, " she added in alower tone, "the most strongly. "

"But now, " he murmured sadly, half to himself, half to, her, "my visionis doubly clear. Close before the success of which I dreamed failure andbitter disappointment. "

"If this 'doubly' refers to your completed work, and also to theArachne, " cried Daphne in the affectionate desire to soothe him, "a pleasant surprise will perhaps soon await you, for Myrtilus judgesyour Demeter much more favourably than you yourself do, and he alsobetrayed to me whom it resembles. "

She blushed slightly as she spoke, and, as her companion's gloomy facebrightened for a short time, went on eagerly: "And now for the Arachne. You will and must succeed in what you so ardently strive to accomplish, a subject so exactly adapted to your magnificent virile genius and sostrangely suited to the course which your art has once entered upon. And you can not fail to secure the right model. You had not found it inAlthea, no, certainly not! O Hermon! if I could only make you see clearlyhow ill suited she, in whom everything is false, is to you--your art, your only too powerful strength, your aspiration after truth--"

"You hate her, " he broke in here in a repellent tone; but Daphne droppedher quiet composure, and her gray eyes, usually so gentle, flashedfiercely as she exclaimed: "Yes, and again yes! From my inmost soul Ido, and I rejoice in it. I have long disliked her, but since yesterday Iabhor her like the spider which she can simulate, like snakes and toads, falsehood and vice. "

Hermon had never seen his uncle's peaceful daughter in this mood. Theemotions that rendered this kindly soul so unlike itself could only bethe one powerful couple, love and jealousy; and while gazing intently ather face, which in this moment seemed to him as beautiful as DallasAthene armed for battle, he listened breathlessly as she continued:"Already the murderous spider had half entangled you in her net. Shedrew you out into the tempest--our steward Gras saw it--in order, whileZeus was raging, to deliver you to the wrath of the other gods also andthe contempt of all good men; for whoever yields himself to her shedestroys, sucks the marrow from his bones like the greedy harpies, andall that is noble from his soul. "

"Why, Daphne, " interrupted Chrysilla, raising herself from her cushionsin alarm, "must I remind you of the moderation which distinguishes theGreeks from the barbarians, and especially the Hellenic woman--"

Here Daphne indignantly broke in: "Whoever practises moderation in theconflict against vice has already gone halfway over to evil. She utterlyruined--how long ago is it?--the unfortunate Menander, my poor Ismene'syoung husband. You know them both, Hermon. Here, of course, youscarcely heard how she lured him from his wife and the lovely little girlwho bears my name. She tempted the poor fellow to her ship, only to casthim off at the end of a month for another. Now he is at home again, buthe thinks Ismene is the statue from the Temple of Isis, which has gainedlife and speech; for he has lost his mind, and when I saw him I felt asif I should die of horror and pity. Now she is coming home with Proclus, and, as the way led through Pelusium, she attached herself to our friendsand forces herself in here with them. What does she care about herelderly travelling companion? But you--yes, you, Hermon--are the nextperson whom she means to capture. Just now, when my eyes closed But no!It is not only in my dreams; the hideous gray threads which proceed fromthis greedy spider are continually floating before me and dim the light. "Here she paused, for the maid Stephanion announced the coming ofvisitors, and at the same time loud voices were heard outside, and themerry party who had been attending the breakfast given by the commandantof Pelusium entered the tent. 

Althea was among the guests, but she took little notice of Hermon. 

Proclus, her associate in Queen Arsinoe's favour, was again asserting hisrights as her travelling companion, and she showed him plainly that theattention which he paid her was acceptable. 

Meanwhile her eager, bright blue eyes were roving everywhere, and nothingthat was passing around her escaped her notice. 

As she greeted Daphne she perceived that her cheeks had flushed duringher conversation with Hermon. 

How reserved and embarrassed the sculptor's manner was now to his uncle'sdaughter, whom only yesterday he had treated with as much freedom asthough she were his sister! What a bungler in dissimulation! how short-sighted was this big, strong man and remarkable artist! He had carriedher, Althea, in his arms like a child for a whole quarter of an hour atthe festival of Dionysus, and, in spite of the sculptor's keen eye, hedid not recognise her again!

What would not dyes and a change of manner accomplish!

Or had the memory of those mad hours revived and caused hisembarrassment? If he should know that her companion, the Milesian Nanno, whom he had feasted with her on oyster pasties at Canopus after she hadgiven the slip to her handsome young companion was Queen Arsinoe!Perhaps she would inform him of it some day if he recognised her. 

Yet that could scarcely have happened. He had only been told what shebetrayed to him yesterday, and was now neglecting her for Daphne's sake. That was undoubtedly the way the matter stood. How the girl's cheekswere glowing when she entered!

The obstacle that stood between her and Hermon was the daughter ofArchias, and she, fool that she was, had attracted Hermon's attention toher. 

No matter!

He would want her for the Arachne, and she needed only to stretch out herhand to draw him to her again if she found no better amusement inAlexandria. Now she would awaken his fears that the best of models wouldrecall her favour. Besides, it would not do to resume the pleasant gamewith him under the eyes of Philippus and his wife, who was a follower ofthe manners of old times. The right course now was to keep him untillater. 

Standing at Proclus's side, she took part gaily in the generalconversation; but when Myrtilus and Philemon had joined the others, andDaphne had consented to go with Philippus and Thyone that evening, inorder, after offering sacrifice together to Selene, to sail for Pelusium, Althea requested the grammateus to take her, into the open air. 

Before leaving the tent, however, she dropped her ostrich-featherfan as she passed Hermon, and, when he picked it up, whispered with asignificant glance at Daphne, "I see that what was learned of her heartis turned to account promptly enough. "

Then, laughing gaily, she continued loudly enough to be heard by hercompanion also: "Yesterday our young artist maintained that the Museshunned abundance; but the works of his wealthy friend Myrtiluscontradicted him, and he changed his view with the speed of lightning. "

"Would that this swift alteration had concerned the direction of hisart, " replied Proclus in a tone audible to her alone. 

Both left the tent as he spoke, and Hermon uttered a sigh of reliefas he looked after them. She attributed the basest motives to him, and Daphne's opinion of her was scarcely too severe. 

He no longer needed to fear her power of attraction, though, now that hehad seen her again, he better understood the spell which she had exertedover him. Every movement of her lithe figure had an exquisite grace, whose charm was soothing to the artist's eye. Only there was somethingpiercing in her gaze when it did not woo love, and, while making the basecharge, her extremely thin lips had showed her sharp teeth in a mannerthat reminded him of the way the she-wolf among the King's wild beasts inthe Paneum gardens raised her lips when any one went near her cage. 

Daphne was right. Ledscha would have been infinitely better as a modelfor the Arachne. Everything in this proud creature was genuine andoriginal, which was certainly not the case with Althea. Besides, sternausterity was as much a part of the Biamite as her hair and her hands, yet what ardent passion he had seen glow in her eyes! The model so longsought in vain he had found in Ledscha, who in so many respects resembledArachne. Fool that he was to have yielded to a swift and falseebullition of feeling!

Since Myrtilus was again near him Hermon had devoted himself with fresheagerness to his artistic task, while a voice within cried more and moreloudly that the success of his new work depended entirely upon Ledscha. He must try to regain her as a model for the Arachne! But whilepondering over the "how, " he felt a rare sense of pleasure when Daphnespoke to him or her glance met his. 

At first he had devoted himself eagerly to his father's old friends, and especially to Thyone, and had not found it quite easy to remain firmwhen, in her frank, kindly, cordial manner, she tried to persuade him toaccompany her and the others to Pelusium. Yet he had succeeded inrefusing the worthy couple's invitation. But when he saw Philotas, whoseresemblance to the King, his cousin, had just been mentioned by one ofthe officers, become more and more eager in his attentions to Daphne, and heard him also invited by Philippus to share the nocturnal voyage, he felt disturbed, and could not conceal from himself that the uneasinesswhich constantly obtained a greater mastery over him arose from the fearof losing his friend to the young aristocrat. 

This was jealousy, and where it flamed so hotly love could scarcely beabsent. Yet, had the shaft of Eros really struck him, how was itpossible that the longing to win Ledscha back stirred so stronglywithin him that he finally reached a resolution concerning her?

As soon as the guests left Tennis he would approach the Biamite again. He had already whispered this intention to Myrtilus, when he heardDaphne's companion say to Thyone, "Philotas will accompany us, and onthis voyage they will plight their troth if Aphrodite's powerful sonaccepts my sacrifice. "

He involuntarily looked at the pair who were intended for each other, and saw Daphne lower her eyes, blushing, at a whisper from the youngMacedonian. 

His blood also crimsoned his cheeks, and when, soon after, he asked hisfriend whether she cared for his companionship, and Daphne assented inthe most eager way, he said that he would share the voyage to Pelusium. Daphne's eyes had never yet beamed upon him so gladly and graciously. Althea was right. She must love him, and it seemed as if this convictionawoke a new star of happiness in his troubled soul. 

If Philotas imagined that he could pluck the daughter of Archias like aripe fruit from a tree, he would find himself mistaken. 

Hermon did not yet exactly understand himself, only he felt certain thatit would be impossible to surrender Daphne to another, and that for hersake he would give up twenty Ledschas, though he cherished infinitelygreat expectations from the Biamite for his art, which hitherto had beenmore to him than all else. 

Everything that he still had to do in Tennis he could intrust to hisconscientious Bias, to Myrtilus, and his slaves. 

If he returned to the city of weavers, he would earnestly endeavour topalliate the offence which he had inflicted on Ledscha, and, if possible, obtain her forgiveness. Only one thing detained him--anxiety about hisfriend, who positively refused to share the night voyage. 

He had promised his uncle Archias to care for him like a brother, andhis own kind heart bade him stay with Myrtilus, and not leave him to thenursing of his very skilful but utterly unreliable body-servant, afterthe last night had proved to what severe attacks of his disease he wasstill liable. 

Myrtilus, however, earnestly entreated him not to deprive himself on hisaccount of a pleasure which he would gladly have shared. There wasplenty of time to pack the statues. As for himself, nothing would do himmore good just now than complete rest in his beloved solitude, which, asHermon knew, was more welcome to him than the gayest society. Nothingwas to be feared for him now. The thunderstorm had purified the air, and another one was not to be expected soon in this dry region. He hadalways been well here in sunny weather. Storms, which were especiallyharmful to him, never came at this season of the year. 

Myrtilus secretly thought that Hermon's departure would be desirable, because the slave Bias had confided to him what dangers threatened hisfriend from the incensed Biamite husbands. 

Finally, Myrtilus turned to the others and begged them not to let Hermonleave Pelusium quickly. 

When, at parting, he was alone with him, he embraced him and said moretenderly than usual: "You know how easy it will be for me to depart fromlife; but it would be easier still if I could leave you behind withoutanxiety, and that would happen if the hymeneal hymns at your marriageto Daphne preceded the dirges which will soon resound above my coffin. Yesterday I first became sure that she loves you, and, much good as youhave in your nature, you owe the best to her. "

Hermon clasped him in his arms with passionate affection, and afterconfessing that he, too, felt drawn with the utmost power toward Daphne, and urging him to anticipate complete recovery instead of an early death, he held out his hand to his friend; but Myrtilus clasped it a long timein his own, saying earnestly: "Only this one frank warning: An Arachnelike the model which Althea presented yesterday evening would deal thepast of your art a blow in the face. No one at Rhodes--and this is justwhat I prize in you--hated imitation more, yet what would using theArachne on the pedestal for a model be except showing the world not howHermon, but how Althea imagines the hapless transformed mortal? Even ifLedscha withdraws from you, hold fast to her image. It will live on inyour soul. Recall it there, free it from whatever is superfluous, supplywhatever it lacks, animate it with the idea of the tireless artist, themocking, defiant mortal woman who ended her life as the weaver of weaversin the insect world, as you have so often vividly described her to me. Then, my dear fellow, you will remain loyal to yourself, and thereforealso to the higher truth, toward which every one of us who laboursearnestly strives, and, myself included, there is no one who wieldshammer and chisel in Greece who could contest the prize with you. "

CHAPTER XV. 

When the sun was approaching the western horizon the travellers started. 

Light mists veiled the radiant right eye of the goddess of heaven. Theblood of the contending spirits of light and darkness, which usually dyedthe west of Egypt crimson at the departure of the great sun god, to-dayvanished from sight. 

The sultry air was damp and oppressive, and experienced old Philippus, who had commanded a fleet of considerable size under the first Ptolemies, agreed with the captain of the vessel, who pointed to several small darkclouds under the silvery stratus, and expressed the fear that Selenewould hardly illumine the ship's course during the coming night. 

But before the departure the travellers had offered sacrifices to thefoam-born Cyprian Aphrodite and the Dioscuri, the protectors of mariners, and the conversation took the gayest turn. 

In the harbour of the neighbouring seaport Tanis they went aboard of thecommandant's state galley, one of the largest and finest in the royalfleet, where a banquet awaited them. 

Cushions were arranged on the high poop, and the sea was as smooth as thesilver dishes in which viands were offered to the guests. 

True, not a breath stirred the still, sultry air, but the three longdouble ranks of rowers in the hold of the ship provided for her swiftprogress, and if no contrary wind sprang up she would run into theharbour of Pelusium before the last goblet was emptied. 

Soon after the departure it seemed as if the captain of the little vesselhad erred in his prediction, for the moon burst victoriously through theblack clouds, only its shining orb was surrounded by a dull, glimmeringhalo. 

Doubtless many a guest longed for a cool breeze, but when the mixed winehad moistened the parched tongues the talk gained fresh animation. 

Every one did his or her part, for the point in question was to inducePhilippus and his wife to visit Alexandria again and spend some timethere as beloved guests with Daphne in her father's house or in thepalace of Philotas, who jestingly, yet with many reasons, contested thehonour with the absent Archias. 

The old warrior had remained away from the capital for several years;he alone knew why. Now the act which had incensed him and the offenceinflicted upon him were forgotten, and, having passed seventy four years, he intended to ask the commander in chief once more for the retirementfrom the army which the monarch had several times refused, in order, asa free man, to seek again the city which in his present position he hadso long avoided. 

Thyone, it is true, thought that her husband's youthful vigour renderedthis step premature, but the visit to Alexandria harmonized with her ownwishes. 

Proclus eagerly sided with her. "To him, " said the man of manifoldknowledge, who as high priest of Apollo was fond of speaking in aninstructive tone, "experience showed that men like Philippus, who solelyon account of the number of their years withdrew their services from thestate, felt unhappy, and, like the unused ploughshare, became prematurelyrusty. What they lacked, and what Philippus would also miss, was notmerely the occupation, which might easily be supplied by another, butstill more the habit of command. One who had had thousands subject tohis will was readily overcome by the feeling that he was going down hill, when only a few dozen of his own slaves and his wife obeyed him. "

This word aroused the mirth of old Philippus, who praised all the goodqualities of Macedonian wives except that of obedience, while Thyoneprotested that during her more than forty years of married life herhusband had become so much accustomed to her complete submission than heno longer noticed it. If Philippus should command her to-morrow to leavetheir comfortable palace in Pelusium to accompany him to Alexandria, where they possessed no home of their own, he would see how willingly sheobeyed him. 

While speaking, her bright, clear eyes, which seemed to float in the deephollows sunk by age, sparkled so merrily in her wrinkled face thatPhilippus shook his finger gaily at her and showed plainly how muchpleasure the jest of the old companion of his wanderings gave him. 

Yet he insisted upon his purpose of not entering Alexandria again untilhe had resigned his office, and to do this at present was impossible, since he was bound just now, as if with chains, to the important frontierfortress. Besides, there had probably been little change in the capitalsince the death of his beloved old companion in arms and master, the lateKing. 

This assertion evoked a storm of contradiction, and even the youngerofficers, who usually imposed severe restraint upon themselves in thegeneral's presence, raised their voices to prove that they, too, hadlooked around the flourishing capital with open eyes. 

Yet it was not six decades since Philippus, then a lad of seventeen, hadbeen present at its foundation. 

His father, who had commanded as hipparch a division of cavalry in thearmy of Alexander the Great, had sent for the sturdy youth just at thattime to come to Egypt, that he might enter the army. The conqueror ofthe world had himself assigned him, as a young Macedonian of good family, to the corps of the Hetairoi; and how the vigorous old man's eyessparkled as, with youthful enthusiasm, he spoke of the divine vanquisherof the world who had at that time condescended to address him, gazed athim keenly yet encouragingly with his all-discerning but kindly blueeyes, and extended his hand to him!

"That, " he cried, "made this rough right hand precious to me. Oftenwhen, in Asia, in scorching India, and later here also, wounded orexhausted, it was ready to refuse its service, a spirit voice withincried, 'Do not forget that he touched it'; and then, as if I had drunkthe noble wine of Byblus, a fiery stream flowed from my heart into theparalyzed hand, and, as though animated with new life, I used it againand kept it worthy of his touch. To have seen a darling of the gods likehim, young men, makes us greater. It teaches us how even we human beingsare permitted to resemble the immortals. Now he is transported among thegods, and the Olympians received him, if any one, gladly. Whoever sharedthe deeds of such a hero takes a small portion of his renown with himthrough life and into the grave, and whom he touched, as befell me, feelshimself consecrated, and whatever is petty and base flows away from himlike water from the anointed body of the wrestler. Therefore I considermyself fortunate above thousands of others, and if there is anythingwhich still tempts me to go to Alexandria, it is the desire to touch hisdead body once more. To do that before I die is my most ardent desire. "

"Then gratify it!" cried Thyone with urgent impatience; but Proclusturned to the matron, and, after exchanging a hasty glance with Althea, said: "You probably know, my venerable friend, that Queen Arsinoe, whomost deeply honours your illustrious husband, had already arranged tohave him summoned to the capital as priest of Alexander. True, in thisposition he would have had the burden of disposing of all the revenuesfrom the temples throughout Egypt; but, on the other hand, he wouldalways have his master's mortal remains near and be permitted to be theirguardian. What influences baffled the Queen's wish certainly have notremained hidden from you here. "

"You are mistaken, " replied Philippus gravely. "Not the least whisper ofthis matter reached my ears, and it is fortunate. "

"Impossible!" Althea eagerly interrupted; "nothing else was talked of forweeks in the royal palace. Queen Arsinoe--you might be jealous, LadyThyone--has been fairly in love with your hero ever since her last stayin your house on her way home from Thrace, and she has not yet given upher desire to see him in the capital as priest of Alexander. It seems toher just and fair that the old companion of the greatest of the greatshould have the highest place, next to her husband's, in the city whosefoundation he witnessed. Arsinoe speaks of you also with all theaffection natural to her feeling heart. "

"This is as flattering as it is surprising, " replied Thyone. "Theattention we showed her in Pelusium was nothing more than we owed to thewife of the sovereign. But the court is not the principal attractionthat draws me to the capital. It would make Philippus happy--you havejust heard him say so--to remember his old master beside the tomb ofAlexander. "

"And, " added Daphne, "how amazed you will be when you see the presentform of the 'Soma', in which rests the golden coffin with the body of thedivine hero whom the fortunate Philippus aided to conquer the world!"

"You are jesting, " interrupted the old warrior. "I aided him only as thedrops in the stream help to turn the wheel of the mill. As to his body, true, I marched at the head of the procession which bore it to Memphisand thence to Alexandria. In the Soma I was permitted to think of himwith devout reverence, and meantime I felt as if I had again seen himwith these eyes--exactly as he looked in the Egyptian fishing village ofRhacotis, which he transformed into your magnificent Alexandria. What ayouth he was! Even what would have been a defect in others became abeauty in him. The powerful neck which supported his divine head was alittle crooked; but what grace it lent him when he turned kindly to anyone! One scarcely noticed it, and yet it was like the bend of apetitioner, and gave the wish which he expressed resistless power. Whenhe stood erect, the sharpest eye could not detect it. Would that hecould appear before me thus once more! Besides, the buildings whichsurrounded the golden coffin were nearly completed at the time of ourdeparture. "

"But the statues, reliefs, and mosaic work were lacking, " said Hermon. "They were executed by Lysippus, Euphranor, and others of our greatestartists; the paintings by Apelles himself, Antiphilus, and Nicias. Onlythose who had won renown were permitted to take part in this work, andthe Ares rushing to battle, created by our Myrtilus, can be seen amongthe others. The tomb of Alexander was not entirely completed until threeyears ago. "

"At the same time as the Paneum, " added Philotas, completing thesentence; and Althea, waving her beaker toward the old hero, remarked:"When you have your quarters in the royal palace with your crownedadmirer, Arsinoe--which, I hope, will be very soon--I will be yourguide. "

"That office is already bestowed on me by the Lady Thyone, " Daphnequietly replied. 

"And you think that, in this case, obedience is the husband's duty?"cried the other, with a sneering laugh. 

"It would only be the confirmation of a wise choice, " replied Philippus, who disliked the Thracian's fawning manner. 

Thyone, too, did not favour her, and had glanced indignantly at her whenAlthea made her rude remark. Now she turned to Daphne, and her plainface regained its pleasant expression as she exclaimed: "We reallypromised your father to let him show us the way, child; but, unfortunately, we are not yet in Alexandria and the Paneum. "

"But you would set out to-morrow, " Hermon protested, "if we could succeedin fitly describing what now awaits you there. There is only oneAlexandria, and no city in the world can offer a more beautiful scenethan is visible from the mountain in the Paneum gardens. "

"Certainly not, " protested the young hipparch, who had studied in Athens. "I stood on the Acropolis; I was permitted to visit Rhodes and Miletus--"

"And you saw nothing more beautiful there, " cried Proclus. "Thearistocratic Roman envoys, who left us a short time ago, admitted thesame thing. They are just men, for the view from the Capitol of theirgrowing city is also to be seen. When the King's command led me to theTiber, many things surprised me; but, as a whole, how shall I compare thetwo cities? The older Rome, with her admirable military power: abarbarian who is just beginning to cultivate more refined manners--Alexandria: a rich, aristocratic Hellene who, like you, my young friend, completed her education in Ilissus, and unites to the elegant taste andintellect of the Athenian the mysterious thoughtfulness of the Egyptian, the tireless industry of the Jew, and the many-sided wisdom and brilliantmagnificence of the other Oriental countries. "

"But who disdains to dazzle the eyes with Asiatic splendour, " interruptedPhilotas. 

"And yet what do we not hear about the unprecedented luxury in the royalpalace!" growled the gray-haired warrior. 

"Parsimony--the gods be praised!--no one need expect from our royalpair, " Althea broke in; "but King Ptolemy uses his paternal wealth forvery different purposes than glittering gems and golden chambers. If youdisdain my guidance, honoured hero, at least accept that of some genuineAlexandrian. Then you will understand Proclus's apt simile. You oughtto begin with the royal palaces in the Brucheium. "

"No, no-with the harbour of Eunostus!" interrupted the grammateus. 

"With the Soma!" cried the young hipparch, while Daphne wished to havethe tour begin in the Paneum gardens. 

"They were already laid out when we left Alexandria, " said Thyone. 

"And they have grown marvellously, as if creative Nature had doubled herpowers in their behalf, " Hermon added eagerly. "But man has also wroughtamazing miracles here. Industrious hands reared an actual mountain. Awinding path leads to the top, and when you stand upon the summit andlook northward you at first feel like the sailor who steps on shore andhears the people speak a language which is new to him. It seems like ajumble of meaningless sounds until he learns, not only to understand thewords, but also to distinguish the sentences. Temples and palaces, statues and columns appear everywhere in motley confusion. Each one, ifyou separate it from the whole and give it a careful examination, isworthy of inspection, nay, of admiration. Here are light, gracefulcreations of Hellenic, yonder heavy, sombre ones of Egyptian art, and inthe background the exquisite azure of the eternal sea, which themarvellous structure of the heptastadium unites to the land; while on theisland of Pharos the lighthouse of Sostratus towers aloft almost to thesky, and with a flood of light points out the way to mariners whoapproach the great harbour at night. Countless vessels are also atanchor in the Eunostus. The riches of the whole earth flow into bothhavens. And the life and movement there and in the inland harbour onLake Mareotis, where the Nile boats land! From early until late, what abusy throng, what an abundance of wares--and how many of the mostvaluable goods are made in our own city! for whatever useful, fine, andcostly articles industrial art produces are manufactured here. The roofhas not yet been put on many a factory in which busy workers are alreadymaking beautiful things. Here the weaver's shuttle flies, yonder gold isspun around slender threads of sheep guts, elsewhere costly materials areembroidered by women's nimble fingers with the prepared gold thread. There glass is blown, or weapons and iron utensils are forged. Finelypolished knives split the pith of the papyrus, and long rows of workmenand workwomen gum the strips together. No hand, no head is permitted torest. In the Museum the brains of the great thinkers and investigatorsare toiling. Here, too, reality asserts its rights. The time forchimeras and wretched polemics is over. Now it is observing, fathoming, turning to account, nothing more!"

"Gently, my young friend, " Proclus interrupted the artist. "I know thatyou, too, sat at the feet of some of the philosophers in the Museum, andstill uphold the teachings of Straton, which your fellow-pupil, KingPtolemy, outgrew long ago. Yet he, also, recognised in philosophy, firstof all, the bond which unites the widely sundered acquisitions of theintellect, the vital breath which pervades them, the touchstone whichproves each true or false. If the praise of Alexandria is to be sung, we must not forget the library to which the most precious treasures ofknowledge of the East and West are flowing, and which feeds those whothirst for knowledge with the intellectual gains of former ages and othernations. Honour, too, to our King, and, that I may be just, to hisillustrious wife; for wherever in the Grecian world a friend of the Musesappears, whether he is investigator, poet, architect, sculptor, artist, actor, or singer, he is drawn to Alexandria, and, that he may not beidle, work is provided. Palaces spring from the earth quickly enough. "

"Yet not like mushrooms, " Hermon interrupted, "but as the noblest, mostcarefully executed creations of art-sculpture and painting provide fortheir decoration both without and within. "

"And, " Proclus went on, "abodes are erected for the gods as well as formen, both Egyptian and Hellenic divinities, each in their own style, andso beautiful that it must be a pleasure for them to dwell under the newroof. "

"Go to the gardens of the Paneum, friends!" cried young Philotas; andHermon, nodding to Thyone, added gaily: "Then you must climb the mountainand keep your eyes open while you are ascending the winding path. Youwill find enough to do to look at all the new sights. You will standthere with dry feet, but your soul will bathe in eternal, imperishable, divine beauty. "

"The foe of beauty!" exclaimed Proclus, pointing to the sculptor with ascornful glance; but Daphne, full of joyous emotion, whispered to Hermonas he approached her: "Eternal, divine beauty! To hear it thus praisedby you makes me happy. "

"Yes, " cried the artist, "what else should I call what has so oftenfilled me with the deepest rapture? The Greek language has no morefitting expression for the grand and lofty things that hovered before me, and which I called by that chameleon of a word. Yet I have a differentmeaning from what appears before you at its sound. Were I to call ittruth, you would scarcely understand me, but when I conjure before mysoul the image of Alexandria, with all that springs from it, all that ismoving, creating, and thriving with such marvellous freedom, naturalness, and variety within it, it is not alone the beauty that pleases the eyewhich delights me; I value more the sound natural growth, the genuine, abundant life. To truth, Daphne, as I mean it. "

He raised his goblet as he spoke and drank to her. 

She willingly pledged him, but, after removing her lips from the cup, sheeagerly exclaimed: "Show it to us, with the mind which animates it, inperfect form, and I should not know wherein it was to be distinguishedfrom the beauty which hitherto has been our highest goal. "

Here the helmsman's loud shout, "The light of Pelusium!" interrupted theconversation. The bright glare from the lighthouse of this city wasreally piercing the misty night air, which for some time had againconcealed the moon. 

There was no further connected conversation, for the sea was now risingand falling in broad, leaden, almost imperceptible waves. The comfort ofmost of Philippus's guests was destroyed, and the ladies uttered a sighof relief when they had descended from the lofty galley and the boatsthat conveyed them ashore, and their feet once more pressed the solidland. The party of travellers went to the commandant's magnificentpalace to rest, and Hermon also retired to his room, but sleep fledfrom his couch. 

No one on earth was nearer to his heart and mind than Daphne, and itoften seemed as if her kind, loyal, yet firm look was resting upon him;but the memory of Ledscha also constantly forced itself upon his mind andstirred his blood. When he thought of the menacing fire of her darkeyes, she seemed to him as terrible as one of the unlovely creaturesborn of Night, the Erinyes, Apate, and Eris. 

Then he could not help recalling their meetings in the grove of Astarte, her self-forgetting, passionate tenderness, and the wonderfully delicatebeauty of her foreign type. True, she had never laughed in his presence;but what a peculiar charm there was in her smile! Had he really lost herentirely and forever? Would it not yet be possible to obtain herforgiveness and persuade her to pose as the model of his Arachne?

During the voyage to Pelusium he had caught Althea's eye again and again, and rejected as an insult her demand to give her his whole love. Thesuccess of the Arachne depended upon Ledscha, and on her alone. He hadnothing good to expect from the Demeter, and during the nocturnalmeditation, which shows everything in the darkest colours, his best planseemed to be to destroy the unsuccessful statue and not exhibit it forthe verdict of the judges. 

But if he went to work again in Tennis to model the Arachne, did not lovefor Daphne forbid him to sue afresh for Ledscha's favour?

What a terrible conflict of feelings!

But perhaps all this might gain a more satisfactory aspect by daylight. Now he felt as though he had entangled himself in a snare. Besides, other thoughts drove sleep from his couch. 

The window spaces were closed by wooden shutters, and whenever theymoved with a low creaking or louder banging Hermon started and forgoteverything else in anxiety about his invalid friend, whose sufferingevery strong wind brought on again, and often seriously increased. 

Three times he sprang up from the soft wool, covered with linen sheets, and looked out to convince himself that no storm had risen. But, thoughmasses of black clouds concealed the moon and stars, and the sea beatheavily against the solid walls of the harbour, as yet only a sultrybreeze of no great strength blew on his head as he thrust it into thenight air. 

This weather could scarcely be dangerous to Myrtilus, yet when themorning relieved him from the torturing anxiety which he had found underhis host's roof instead of rest and sleep, gray and black clouds weresweeping as swiftly over the port and the ramparts beside him as if theywere already driven by a tempest, and warm raindrops besprinkled hisface. 

He went, full of anxiety, to take his bath, and, while committing thecare of the adornment of his outer man to one of the household slaves, he determined that unless--as often happened in this country--the sungained the victory over the clouds, he would return to Tennis and joinMyrtilus. 

In the hall of the men he met the rest of the old hero's guests. 

They received him pleasantly enough, Althea alone barely noticed hisgreeting; she seemed to suspect in what way he thought of her. 

Thyone and Daphne extended their hands to him all the more cordially. 

Philippus did not appear until after breakfast. He had been detained byimportant despatches from Alexandria, and by questions and communicationsfrom Proclus. The latter desired to ascertain whether the influentialwarrior who commanded the most important fortress in the country could bepersuaded to join a conspiracy formed by Arsinoe against her royalhusband, but he seemed to have left Philippus with very faint hopes. 

Subordinate officers and messengers also frequently claimed thecommandant's attention. When the market place was filling, however, the sturdy old soldier kindly fulfilled his duties as host by offeringto show his guests the sights of the fortified seaport. 

Hermon also accompanied him at Daphne's side, but he made it easy forPhilotas to engross her attention; for, though the immense thickness ofthe walls and the arrangement of the wooden towers which, crowned withbattlements, rose at long intervals, seemed to him also well worthseeing, he gave them only partial attention. 

While Philippus was showing the guests how safely the archers andslingers could be concealed behind the walls and battlements anddischarge their missiles, and explaining the purpose of the greatcatapults on the outermost dike washed by the sea, the artist waslistening to the ever-increasing roar of the waves which poured into theharbour from the open sea, to their loud dashing against the strong mole, to the shrill scream of the sea gulls, the flapping of the sails, whichwere being taken in everywhere--in short, to all the sounds occasioned bythe rising violence of the wind. 

There were not a few war ships in the port and among them perfect giantsof amazing size and unusual construction, but Hermon had already seenmany similar ones. 

When, shortly after noon, the sun for a few brief moments pierced withscorching rays the dark curtain that shrouded it from sight, and thensuddenly dense masses of clouds, driven from the sea by the tempest, covered the day star, his eyes and cars were engrossed entirely by theuproar of the elements. 

The air darkened as if night was falling at this noontide hour, and withsavage fury the foaming mountain waves rushed like mad wild beasts infierce assault upon the mole, the walls, and the dikes of the fortifiedport. 

"Home!" cried Thyone, and again entered the litter which she had left toinspect the new catapults. 

Althea, trembling, drew her peplos together as the storm swept her lightfigure before it, and, shrieking, struggled against the black slaves whotried to lift her upon the war elephant which had borne her here. 

Philotas gave his arm to Daphne. Hermon had ceased to notice her; he hadjust gone to his gray-haired host with the entreaty that he would givehim a ship for the voyage to Tennis, where Myrtilus would need hisassistance. 

"It is impossible in such weather, " was the reply. 

"Then I will ride!" cried Hermon resolutely, and Philippus scanned theson of his old friend and companion in arms with an expression of quietsatisfaction in his eyes, still sparkling brightly, and answered quickly, "You shall have two horses, my boy, and a guide who knows the roadbesides. "

Then, turning swiftly to one of the officers who accompanied him, heordered him to provide what was necessary. 

When, soon after, in the impluvium, the tempest tore the velarium thatcovered the open space from its rings, and the ladies endeavoured todetain Hermon, Philippus silenced them with the remark:

"A disagreeable ride is before him, but what urges him on is pleasing tothe gods. I have just ventured to send out a carrier dove, " he added, turning to the artist, "to inform Myrtilus that he may expect you beforesunset. The storm comes from the cast, otherwise it would hardly reachthe goal. Put even if it should be lost, what does it matter?"

Thyone nodded to her old husband with a look of pleasure, and her eyesshone through tears at Hermon as she clasped his hand and, rememberingher friend, his mother, exclaimed: "Go, then, you true son of yourfather, and tell your friend that we will offer sacrifices for hiswelfare. "

"A lean chicken to Aesculapius, " whispered the grammateus to Althea. "She holds on to the oboli. "

"Which, at any rate, would be hard enough to dispose of in this wretchedplace unless one were a dealer in weapons or a thirsty sailor, " sighedthe Thracian. "As soon as the sky and sea are blue again, chains couldnot keep me here. And the cooing around this insipid rich beauty intothe bargain!"

This remark referred to Philotas, who was just offering Daphne amagnificent bunch of roses, which a mounted messenger had brought to himfrom Alexandria. 

The girl received it with a grateful glance, but she instantly separatedone of the most beautiful blossoms from its companions and handed it toHermon, saying, "For our suffering friend, with my affectionateremembrances. "

The artist pressed her dear hand with a tender look of love, intended toexpress how difficult it was for him to leave her, and when, just at thatmoment, a slave announced that the horses were waiting, Thyone whispered:"Have no anxiety, my son! Your ride away from her through the tempestwill bring you a better reward than his slave's swift horse will bear thegiver of the roses. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

Hermon, with the rose for his friend fastened in the breast folds of hischiton, mounted his horse gratefully, and his companion, a sinewy, bronzed Midianite, who was also to attend to the opening of the fortressgates, did the same. 

Before reaching the open country the sculptor had to ride through thewhole city, with which he was entirely unfamiliar. Fiercely as the stormwas sweeping down the streets and squares, and often as the horseman wasforced to hold on to his travelling hat and draw his chlamys closeraround him, he felt the anxieties which had made his night sleeplessand saddened his day suddenly leave him as if by a miracle. Was it theconsciousness of having acted rightly? was it the friendly farewell whichDaphne had given him, and the hope Thyone had aroused, or the expectationof seeing Ledscha once more, and at least regaining her good will, thathad restored his lost light-heartedness? He did not know himself, nordid he desire to know. 

While formerly he had merely glanced carelessly about him in Pelusium, and only half listened to the explanations given by the veteran's deepvoice, now whatever he saw appeared in clear outlines and awakened hisinterest, in spite of the annoyances caused by the storm. 

Had he not known that he was in Pelusium, it would have been difficultfor him to determine whether the city he was crossing was an Egyptian, aHellenic, or a Syrian one; for here rose an ancient temple of the time ofthe Pharaohs, with obelisks and colossal statues before the lofty pylons, yonder the sanctuary of Poseidon, surrounded by stately rows of Doriccolumns, and farther on the smaller temple dedicated to the Dioscuri, andthe circular Grecian building that belonged to Aphrodite. 

In another spot, still close to the harbour, he saw the large buildingsconsecrated to the worship of the Syrian Baal and Astarte. 

Here he was obliged to wait awhile, for the tempest had excited the warelephants which were returning from their exercising ground, and theirblack keepers only succeeded with the utmost difficulty in restrainingthem. Shrieking with fear, the few persons who were in the streetbesides the soldiers, that were everywhere present, scattered before thehuge, terrified animals. 

The costume and appearance of the citizens, too, gave no clew to thecountry to which the place belonged; there were as many Egyptians amongthem as Greeks, Syrians, and negroes. Asiatics appeared in the majorityonly in the market place, where the dealers were just leaving theirstands to secure their goods from the storm. In front of the bigbuilding where the famous Pelusinian xythus beer was brewed, the drinkwas being carried away in jugs and wineskins, in ox-carts and on donkeys. Here, too, men were loading camels, which were rarely seen in Egypt, andhad been introduced there only a short time before. 

How forcibly all these things riveted Hermon's attention, now that no onewas at hand to explain them and no delay was permitted! He scarcely hadtime for recollection and expectation. 

Finally, the last gate was unlocked, and the ramparts and moats laybehind him. 

Thus far the wind had kept back the rain, and only scattered drops lashedthe riders' faces; but as soon as they entered the open country, itseemed as though the pent-up floods burst the barriers which retainedthem above, and a torrent of water such as only those dry regions knowrushed, not in straight or slanting lines, but in thick streams, whirledby the hurricane, upon the marshy land which stretched from Pelusium toTennis, and on the horsemen. 

The road led along a dike raised above fields which, at this season ofthe year, were under water, and Hermon's companion knew it well. 

For a time both riders allowed themselves to be drenched in silence. The water ran down upon them from their broad-brimmed hats, and theirdripping horses trotted with drooping heads and steaming flanks onebehind the other until, at the very brick-kiln where Ledscha had recalledher widowed sister's unruly slaves to obedience, the guide stopped withan oath, and pointed to the water which had risen to the top of the dam, and in some places concealed the road from their eyes. 

Now it was no longer possible to trot, for the guide was obliged to seekthe traces of the dike with great caution. Meanwhile the force of thepouring rain by no means lessened--nay, it even seemed to increase--andthe horses were already wading in water up to their fetlocks. 

But if the votive stones, the little altars and statues of the gods, thebushes and single trees along the sides of the dike road were overflowedwhile the travellers were in the region of the marsh, they would beobliged to interrupt their journey, for the danger of sinking into themorass with their horses would then threaten them. 

Even at the brick-kiln travellers, soldiers, and trains of merchandisehad stopped to wait for the end of the cloud-burst. 

In front of the farmhouse, too, which Hermon and his companion nextreached, they saw dozens of people seeking shelter, and the Midianiteurged his master to join them for a short time at least. The wisestcourse here was probably to yield, and Hermon was already turning hishorse's head toward the house when a Greek messenger dashed past thebeckoning refuge and also by him. 

"Do you dare to ride farther?" the artist shouted in a tone of warninginquiry to the man on the dripping bay, and the latter, without pausing, answered: "Duty! On business for the King!"

Then Hermon turned his steed back toward the road, beat the water fromhis soaked beard with the edge of his hand, and with a curt "Forward!"announced his decision to his companion. Duty summoned him also, andwhat another risked for the King he would not fail to do for his friend. 

The Midianite, shaking his head, rode angrily after him; but, though theviolence of the rain was lessening, the wind began to blow with redoubledforce, beating and lashing the boundless expanse of the quickly formedlake with such savage fury that it rolled in surges like the sea, andsweeping over it dense clouds of foam like the sand waves tossed by thedesert tempests. 

Sometimes moaning, sometimes whistling, the gusts of the hurricane drovethe water and the travellers before it, while the rain poured from thesky to the earth, and wherever it struck splashed upward, making littlewhirlpools and swiftly breaking bubbles. 

What might not Myrtilus suffer in this storm! This thought strengthenedHermon's courage to twice ride past other farmhouses which offeredshelter. At the third the horse refused to wade farther in such atempest, so there was nothing to be done except spring off and lead it tothe higher ground which the water had not yet reached. 

The interior of the peasant hut was filled with people who had soughtshelter there, and the stifling atmosphere which the artist felt at thedoor induced him to remain outside. 

He had stood there dripping barely fifteen minutes when loud shouts andyells were heard on the road from Pelusium by which he had come, and uponthe flooded dike appeared a body of men rushing forward with marvellousspeed. 

The nearer they came the fiercer and more bewildering sounded the loud, shrill medley of their frantic cries, mingled with hoarse laughter, andthe spectacle presented to the eyes was no less rough and bold. 

The majority seemed to be powerful men. Their complexions were as lightas the Macedonians; their fair, red, and brown locks were thick, unkempt, and bristling. Most of the reckless, defiantly bold faces were smooth-shaven, with only a mustache on the upper lip, and sometimes a shortimperial. All carried weapons, and a fleece covered the shoulders ofmany, while chains, ornamented with the teeth of animals, hung on theirwhite muscular chests. 

"Galatians, " Hermon heard one man near him call to another. "They cameto the fortress as auxiliary troops. Philippus forbade them to plunderon pain of death, and showed them--the gods be thanked!--that he was inearnest. Otherwise it would soon look here as though the plagues oflocusts, flood, and fire had visited us at once. Red-haired men are notthe only sons of Typhon!"

And Hermon thought that he had indeed never seen any human beings equallyfierce, bold to the verge of reckless madness, as these Gallic warriors. The tempest which swept them forward, and the water through which theywaded, only seemed to increase their enjoyment, for sheer delight rang intheir exulting shouts and yells. 

Oh, yes! To march amid this uproar of the elements was a pleasure to thehealthy men. It afforded them the rarest, most enlivening delight. Fora long time nothing had so strongly reminded them of the roaring of thewind and the rushing of the rain in their northern home. It seemed adelicious relief, after the heat and dryness of the south, which they hadendured with groans. 

When they perceived the eyes fixed upon them they swung their weapons, arched their breasts with conscious vanity, distorted their faces intoterrible threatening grimaces, or raised bugle horns to their lips, drewfrom them shrill, ear-piercing notes and gloated, with childish delight, in the terror of the gaping crowd, on whom the restraint of authoritysternly forbade them to show their mettle. 

Lust of rapine and greed for booty glittered in many a fiery, longinglook, but their leaders kept them in check with the sword. So theyrushed on without stopping, like a thunderstorm pregnant with destructionwhich the wind drives over a terrified village. 

Hermon also had to take the road they followed, and, after giving theGauls a long start, he set out again. 

But though he succeeded in passing the marshy region without injury, there had been delay after delay; here the horses had left the floodeddike road and floundered up to their knees in the morass, there treesfrom the roadside, uprooted by the storm, barred the way. 

As night closed in the rain ceased and the wind began to subside, butdark clouds covered the sky, and the horsemen were still an hour's ridefrom the place where the road ended at the little harbour from whichtravellers entered the boat which conveyed them to Tennis. 

The way no longer led through the marsh, but through tilled lands, andcrossed the ditches which irrigated the fields on wooden bridges. 

On their account, in the dense darkness which prevailed, caution wasnecessary, and this the guide certainly did not lack. He rode at a slowwalk in front of the artist, and had just pointed out to him the light atthe landing place of the boat which went to Tennis, when Hermon wassuddenly startled by a loud cry, followed by clattering and splashing. 

With swift presence of mind he sprang from his horse and found hisconjecture verified. The bridge had broken down, and horse and rider hadfallen into the broad canal. 

"The Galatians!" reached Hermon from the dark depths, and the exclamationrelieved him concerning the fate of the Midianite. 

The latter soon struggled up to the road uninjured. The bridge must havegiven way under the feet of the savage horde, unless the Gallic monsters, with brutal malice, had intentionally shattered it. 

The first supposition, however, seemed to be the correct one, for asHermon approached the canal he heard moans of pain. One of the Gaulshad apparently met with an accident in the fall of the bridge and beendeserted by his comrades. With the skill acquired in the wrestlingschool, Hermon descended into the canal to look for the wounded man, while his guide undertook to get the horses ashore. 

The deep darkness considerably increased the difficulty of carrying outhis purpose, but the young Greek went up to his neck in the water hecould not become wetter than he was already. So he remained in the ditchuntil he found the injured man whose groans of suffering pierced hiscompassionate heart. 

He was obliged to release the luckless Gaul from the broken timbers ofthe bridge, and, when Hermon had dragged him out on the opposite bank ofthe canal, he made no answer to any question. A falling beam hadprobably struck him senseless. 

His hair, which Hermon's groping fingers informed him was thick andrough, seemed to denote a Gaul, but a full, long beard was very rarelyseen in this nation, and the wounded man wore one. Nor could anything bediscovered from the ornaments or weapons of this fierce barbarian. 

But to whatever people he might belong, he certainly was not a Greek. The thoroughly un-Hellenic wrapping up of the legs proved that. 

No matter! Hermon at any rate was dealing with some one who was severelyinjured, and the self-sacrificing pity with which even suffering animalsinspired him, and which in his boyhood had drawn upon him the jeers ofthe companions of his own age, did not abandon him now. 

Reluctantly obeying his command, the Midianite helped him bandage thesufferer's head, in which a wound could be felt, as well as it couldbe done in the darkness, and lift him on the artist's horse. During thistime fresh groans issued from the bearded lips of the injured warrior, and Hermon walked by his side, guarding the senseless man from the dangerof falling from the back of the horse as it slowly followed theMidianite's. 

This tiresome walk, however, did not last long; the landing place wasreached sooner than Hermon expected, and the ferryboat bore thetravellers and the horses to Tennis. 

By the flickering light of the captain's lantern it was ascertained thatthe wounded man, in spite of his long dark beard, was probably a Gaul. The stupor was to be attributed to the fall of a beam on his head, andthe shock, rather than to the wound. The great loss of blood sustainedby the young and powerful soldier had probably caused the duration of theswoon. 

During the attempts at resuscitation a sailor boy offered his assistance. He carefully held the lantern, and, as its flickering light fell forbrief moments upon the artist's face, the lad of thirteen or fourteenasked if he was Hermon of Alexandria. 

A curt "If you will permit, " answered the question, considered by theHellenes an unseemly one, especially from such a youth; but the sculptorpaid no further attention to him, for, while devoting himself honestly tothe wounded man, his anxiety about his invalid friend increased, andLedscha's image also rose again before him. 

At last the ferryboat touched the land, and when Hermon looked around forthe lad he had already leaped ashore, and was just vanishing in thedarkness. 

It was probably within an hour of midnight. 

The gale was still blowing fiercely over the water, driving the blackclouds across the dark sky, sometimes with long-drawn, wailing sounds, sometimes with sharp, whistling ones. The rain had wholly ceased, andseemed to have exhausted itself here in the afternoon. 

As Archias's white house was a considerable distance from the landingplace of the ferryboat, Hermon had the wounded warrior carried to it byBiamite sailors, and again mounted his horse to ride to Myrtilus at asswift a trot as the soaked, wretched, but familiar road would permit. 

Considerable time had been spent in obtaining a litter for the Gaul, yetHermon was surprised to meet the lad who had questioned him so boldly onthe ferryboat coming, not from the landing place, but running toward itagain from the city, and then saw him follow the shore, carrying ablazing torch, which he waved saucily. The wind blew aside the flame andsmoke which came from the burning pitch, but it shone brightly throughthe gloom and permitted the boy to be distinctly seen. Whence had thenimble fellow come so quickly? How had he succeeded, in this fiercegale, in kindling the torch so soon into a powerful flame? Was it notfoolish to let a child amuse itself in the middle of the night with sodangerous a toy?

Hermon hastily thought over these questions, but the supposition that thelight of the torch might be intended for a signal did not occur to him. 

Besides, the boy and the light in his hand occupied his mind only a shorttime. He had better things to think of. With what longing Myrtilus mustnow be expecting his arrival! But the Gaul needed his aid no lessurgently than his friend. Accurately as he knew what remedies relievedMyrtilus in severe attacks of illness, he could scarcely dispense with anassistant or a leech for the other, and the idea swiftly flashed upon himthat the wounded man would afford him an opportunity of seeing Ledschaagain. 

She had told him more than once about the healing art possessed by oldTabus on the Owl's Nest. Suppose he should now seek the angry girl toentreat her to speak to the aged miracle-worker in behalf of the sorelywounded young foreigner?

Here he interrupted himself; something new claimed his attention. 

A dim light glimmered through the intense darkness from a bit of risingground by the wayside. It came from the Temple of Nemesis--a prettylittle structure belonging to the time of Alexander the Great, which hehad often examined with pleasure. Several steps led to the anteroom, supported by Ionic columns, which adjoined the naos. 

Two lamps were burning at the side of the door leading into the littleopen cella, and at the back of the consecrated place the statue of thewinged goddess was visible in the light of a small altar fire. 

In her right hand she held the bridle and scourge, and at her feet stoodthe wheel, whose turning indicates the influence exerted by her powerupon the destiny of mortals. With stern severity that boded evil, shegazed down upon her left forearm, bent at the elbow, which correspondswith the ell, the just measure. 

Hermon certainly now, if ever, lacked both time and inclination toexamine again this modest work of an ordinary artist, yet he quicklystopped his weary horse; for in the little pronaos directly in front ofthe cella door stood a slender figure clad in a long floating dark robe, extending its hands through the cella door toward the statue in ferventprayer. She was pressing her brow against the left post of the door, butat her feet, on the right side, cowered another figure, which couldscarcely be recognised as a human being. 

This, too, was a woman. 

Deeply absorbed in her own thoughts, she was also extending her armstoward the statue of Nemesis. 

Hermon knew them both. 

At first he fancied that his excited imagination was showing him athreatening illusion. But no!

The erect figure was Ledscha, the crouching one Gula, the sailor's wifewhose child he had rescued from the flames, and who had recently beencast out by her husband. 

"Ledscha!" escaped his lips in a muttered tone, and he involuntarilyextended his hands toward her as she was doing toward the goddess. 

But she did not seem to hear him, and the other woman also retained thesame attitude, as if hewn from stone. 

Then he called the supplicant's name loud tone, and the next instantstill more loudly; and now she turned, and, in the faint light of thelittle lamp, showed the marvellously noble outlines of her profile. Hecalled again, and this time Ledscha heard anguished yearning in his deeptones; but they seemed to have lost their influence over her, for herlarge dark eyes gazed at him so repellently and sternly that a coldtremor ran down his spine. 

Swinging himself from his horse, he ascended the steps of the temple, andin the most tender tones at his command exclaimed: "Ledscha! Severely asI have offended you, Ledscha--oh, do not say no! Will you hear me?"

"No!" she answered firmly, and, before he could speak, continued: "Thisplace is ill chosen for another meeting! Your presence is hateful to me!Do not disturb me a moment longer!"

"As you command, " he began hesitatingly; but she swiftly interrupted withthe question, "Do you come from Pelusium, and are you going directlyhome?"

"I did not heed the storm on account of Myrtilus's illness, " he answeredquietly, "and if you demand it, I will return home at once; but first letme make one more entreaty, which will be pleasing also to the gods. "

"Get your response from yonder deity! "she impatiently interrupted, pointing with a grand, queenly gesture, which at any other time wouldhave delighted his artist eye, to the statue of Nemesis in the cella. 

Meanwhile Gula had also turned her face toward Hermon, and he nowaddressed her, saying with a faint tone of reproach: "And did hatred leadyou also, Gula, to this sanctuary at midnight to implore the goddess todestroy me in her wrath?"

The young mother rose and pointed to Ledscha, exclaiming, "She desiresit. "

"And I?" he asked gently. "Have I really done you so much evil?"

She raised her hand to her brow as if bewildered; her glance fell on theartist's troubled face, and lingered there for a short time. Then hereyes wandered to Ledscha, and from her to the goddess, and finally backagain to the sculptor. Meanwhile Hermon saw how her young figure wastrembling, and, before he had time to address a soothing-word to her, shesobbed aloud, crying out to Ledscha: "You are not a mother! My child, herescued it from the flames. I will not, and I can not--I will no longerpray for his misfortune!"

She drew her veil over her pretty, tear-stained face as she spoke, anddarted lightly down the temple steps close beside him to seek shelter inher parents' house, which had been unwillingly opened to the cast-offwife, but now afforded her a home rich in affection. 

Immeasurably bitter scorn was depicted in Ledscha's features as she gazedafter Gula. She did not appear to notice Hermon, and when at last heappealed to her and briefly urged her to ask the old enchantress on theOwl's Nest for a remedy for the wounded Gaul, she again leaned againstthe post of the cella door, extended both arms with passionate fervourtoward the goddess, and remained standing there motionless, deaf to hispetition. 

His blood seethed in his veins, and he was tempted to go nearer and forceher to hear him; but before he had ascended the first of the flight ofsteps leading to the pronaos, he heard the footsteps of the men who werebearing the wounded warrior after him. 

They must not see him here with one of their countrywomen at this hour, and manly pride forbade him to address her again as a supplicant. 

So he went back to the road, mounted his horse, and rode on withoutvouchsafing a word of farewell to the woman who was invoking destructionupon his head. As he did so his eyes again rested on the stern face ofNemesis, and the wheel whose turning determined the destiny of men at herfeet. 

Assailed by horrible fears, and overpowered by presentiments of evil, hepursued his way through the darkness. 

Perhaps Myrtilus had succumbed to the terrible attack which must havevisited him in such a storm, and life without his friend would be bereftof half its charm. Orphaned, poor, a struggler who had gained nocomplete victory, it had been rich only in disappointments to him, inspite of his conviction that he was a genuine artist, and was fightingfor a good cause. Now he knew that he had also lost the woman by whoseassistance he was certain of a great success in his own much-disputedcourse, and Ledscha, if any one, was right in expecting a favourablehearing from the goddess who punished injustice. 

He did not think of Daphne again until he was approaching the place whereher tents had stood, and the remembrance of her fell like a ray of lightinto his darkened soul. 

Yet on that spot had also been erected the wooden platform from whichAlthea had showed him the transformation into the spider, and therecollection of the foolish error into which the Thracian had drawn himdisagreeably clouded the pleasant thought of Daphne. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Complete darkness enfolded the white house. Hermon saw only two windowslighted, the ones in his friend's studio, which looked out into the opensquare, while his own faced the water. 

What did this mean?

It must be nearly midnight, and he could no longer expect Myrtilus to bestill at work. He had supposed that he should find him in his chamber, supported by his slaves, struggling for breath. What was the meaning ofthe light in the workrooms now?

Where was his usually efficient Bias? He never went to rest when hismaster was to return home, yet the carrier dove must have announced hiscoming!

But Hermon had also enjoined the care of Myrtilus upon the slave, and hewas undoubtedly beside the sufferer's couch, supporting him in the sameway that he had often seen his master. 

He was now riding across the open space, and he heard the men who carriedthe Gaul talking close behind him. 

Was the wounded barbarian the sole acquisition of this journey?

The beat of his horse's hoofs and the voices of the Biamites echoeddistinctly enough amid the stillness of the night, which was interruptedonly by the roaring of the wind. And this disturbance of the deepsilence around had entered the lighted windows before him, for a figureappeared at one of them, and--could he believe his own eyes?--Myrtiluslooked down into the square, and a joyous welcome rang from his lips asloudly as in his days of health. 

The darkness of the night suddenly seemed to Hermon to be illumined. Aleap to the ground, two bounds up the steps leading to the house, aneager rush through the corridor that separated him from the room in whichMyrtilus was, the bursting instead of opening of the door, and, as iffrantic with happy surprise, he impetuously embraced his friend, who, burin and file in hand, was just approaching the threshold, and kissedhis brow and cheeks in the pure joy of his heart. 

Then what questions, answers, tidings! In spite of the torrents of rainand the gale, the invalid's health had been excellent. The solitude haddone him good. He knew nothing about the carrier dove. The hurricanehad probably "blown it away, " as the breeders of the swift messengerssaid. 

Question and reply now followed one another in rapid succession, and bothwere soon acquainted with everything worth knowing; nay, Hermon had evendelivered Daphne's rose to his friend, and informed him what had befallenthe Gaul who was being brought into the house. 

Bias and the other slaves had quickly appeared, and Hermon soon renderedthe wounded man the help he needed in an airy chamber in the second storyof the house, which, owing to the heat that prevailed in summer so closeunder the roof, the slaves had never occupied. 

Bias assisted his master with equal readiness and skill, and at last theGaul opened his eyes and, in the language of his country, asked a fewbrief questions which were incomprehensible to the others. Then, groaning, he again closed his lids. 

Hitherto Hermon had not even allowed himself time to look around hisfriend's studio and examine what he had created during his absence. But, after perceiving that his kind act had not been in vain, and consumingwith a vigorous appetite the food and wine which Bias set before him, heobliged Myrtilus--for another day was coming--to go to rest, that thestorm might not still prove hurtful to him. 

Yet he held his friend's hand in a firm clasp for a long time, and, whenthe latter at last prepared to go, he pressed it so closely that itactually hurt Myrtilus. But he understood his meaning, and, with aloving glance that sank deep into Hermon's heart, called a last goodnight. 

After two sleepless nights and the fatiguing ride which he had justtaken, the sculptor felt weary enough; but when he laid his hand on theGaul's brow and breast, and felt their burning heat, he refused Bias'svoluntary offer to watch the sufferer in his place. 

If to amuse or forget himself he had caroused far more nights insuccession in Alexandria, why should he not keep awake when the object inquestion was to wrest a young life from the grasp of death? This man andhis life were now his highest goal, and he had never yet repented hisfoolish eccentricity of imposing discomforts upon himself to help thesuffering. 

Bias, on his part, was very willing to go to rest. He had plenty ofcause for weariness; Myrtilus's unscrupulous body-servant had stolenoff with the other slaves the night before, and did not return, withstaggering gait, until the next morning, but, in order to keep hispromise to his master, he had scarcely closed his eyes, that he might beat hand if Myrtilus should need assistance. 

So Bias fell asleep quickly enough in his little room in the lower story, while his master, by the exertion of all his strength of will, watchedbeside the couch of the Gaul. 

Yet, after the first quarter of an hour, his head, no matter how hestruggled to prevent it, drooped again and again upon his breast. Butjust as slumber was completely overpowering him his patient made himstart up, for he had left his bed, and when Hermon, fully roused, lookedfor him, was standing in the middle of the room, gazing about him. 

The artist thought that fever had driven the wounded warrior from hiscouch, as it formerly did his fellow-pupil Lycon, whom, in the deliriumof typhus, he could keep in bed only by force. So he led the Gaulcarefully back to the couch he had deserted, and, after moistening thebandage with healing balm from Myrtilus's medicine chest, ordered him tokeep quiet. 

The barbarian yielded as obediently as a child, but at first remained ina sitting posture and asked, in scarcely intelligible broken Greek, howhe came to this place. 

After Hermon had satisfied his curiosity, he also put a few questions, and learned that his charge not only wore a mustache, like his fellowcountrymen, but also a full beard, because the latter was the badge ofthe bridge builders, to which class he belonged. While examining the onecrossing the canal, it had fallen in upon him. 

He closed his eyes as he spoke, and Hermon wondered if it was not timefor him to lie down also; but the wounded man's brow was still burning, and the Gallic words which he constantly muttered were probably about thephantoms of fever, which Hermon recognised from Lycon's illness. 

So he resolved to wait and continue to devote the night, which he hadalready intended to give him, to the sufferer. From the chair at thefoot of the bed he looked directly into his face. The soft light of thelamp, which with two others hung from a tall, heavy bronze stand in theshape of an anchor, which Bias had brought, shone brightly enough toallow him to perceive how powerful was the man whose life he had saved. His own face was scarcely lighter in hue than the barbarian's, and howsharp was the contrast between his long, thick black beard and his whiteface and bare arched chest!

Hermon had noticed this same contrast in his own person. Otherwise theGaul did not resemble him in a single feature, and he might even haverefused to compare his soft, wavy beard with the harsh, almost bristlyone of the barbarian. And what a defiant, almost evil expression hiscountenance wore when--perhaps because his wound ached--he closed hislips more firmly! The children who so willingly let him, Hermon, takethem in his arms would certainly have been afraid of this savage-lookingfellow. 

Yet in build, and at any rate in height and breadth of shoulders, therewas some resemblance between him and the Gaul. 

As a bridge builder, the injured man belonged, in a certain sense, to theranks of the artists, and this increased Hermon's interest in hispatient, who was now probably out of the most serious danger. 

True, the Greek still cast many a searching glance at the barbarian, buthis eyes closed more and more frequently, and at last the idea tookpossession of him that he himself was the wounded man on the couch, andsome one else, who again was himself, was caring for him. 

He vainly strove to understand the impossibility of this division of hisown being, but the more eagerly he did so the greater became hisbewilderment. 

Suddenly the scene changed; Ledscha had appeared. 

Bending over him, she lavished words of love; but when, in passionateexcitement, he sprang from the couch to draw her toward him, she changedinto the Nemesis to whose statue she had just prayed. 

He stood still as if petrified, and the goddess, too, did not stir. Onlythe wheel which had rested at her feet began to move, and rolled, with athundering din, sometimes around him, sometimes around the people who, asif they had sprung from the ground, formed a jeering company ofspectators, and clapped their hands, laughed, and shouted wheneverit rolled toward him and he sprang back in fear. 

Meanwhile the wheel constantly grew larger, and seemed to become heavier, for the wooden beams over which it rolled splintered, crashing like thinlaths, and the spectators' shouts of applause sounded ruder and fiercer. 

Then mortal terror suddenly seized him, and while he shouted for help toMyrtilus, Daphne, and her father Archias, his slave Bias, the old comradeof Alexander, Philippus, and his wife, he awoke, bathed in perspiration, and looked about him. 

But he must still be under the spell of the horrible dream, for therattling and clattering around him continued, and the bed where thewounded Gaul had lain was empty. 

Hermon involuntarily dipped his hand into the water which stood ready towet the bandages, and sprinkled his own face with it; but if he had everbeheld life with waking eyes, he was doing so now. Yet the barbarian hadvanished, and the noise in the house still continued. 

Was it possible that rats and mice--? No! That was the shriek of aterrified human being--that a cry for help! This sound was the imperiouscommand of a rough man's voice, that--no, he was not mistaken--that washis own name, and it came from the lips of his Myrtilus, anxiously, urgently calling for assistance. 

Then he suddenly realized that the white house had been attacked, thathis friend must be rescued from robbers or the fury of a mob of Biamites, and, like the bent wood of a projectile when released from the noosewhich holds it to the ground, the virile energy that characterized himsprang upward with mighty power. The swift glance that swept the roomwas sent to discover a weapon, and before it completed the circuit Hermonhad already grasped the bronze anchor with the long rod twined withleaves and the teeth turned downward. Only one of the three littlevessels filled with oil that hung from it was burning. Before swingingthe heavy standard aloft, he freed it from the lamps, which struck thefloor with a clanging noise. 

The man to whom he dealt a blow with this ponderous implement wouldforget to rise. Then, as if running for a prize in the gymnasium, herushed through the darkness to the staircase, and with breathless hastegroped his way down the narrow, ladderlike steps. He felt himself anavenging, punishing power, like the Nemesis who had pursued him in hisdreams. He must wrest the friend who was to him the most beloved ofmortals from the rioters. To defeat them himself seemed a small matter. His shout--"I am coming, Myrtilus! Snuphis, Bias, Dorcas, Syrus! here, follow me!" was to summon the old Egyptian doorkeeper and the slaves, andinform his friend of the approach of a deliverer. 

The loudest uproar echoed from his own studio. Its door stood wide open, and black smoke, mingled with the deep red and yellow flames of burningpitch, poured from it toward him. 

"Myrtilus!" he shouted at the top of his voice as he leaped across thethreshold into the tumult which filled the spacious apartment, at thesame time clashing the heavy iron anchor down upon the head of the broad-shouldered, half-naked fellow who was raising a clumsy lance against him. 

The pirate fell as though struck by lightning, and he again shouted"Myrtilus!" into the big room, so familiar to him, where the conflict wasraging chaotically amid a savage clamour, and the smoke did not allow himto distinguish a single individual. 

For the second time he swung the terrible weapon, and it struck to thefloor the monster with a blackened face who had rushed toward him, but atthe same time the anchor broke in two. 

Only a short metal rod remained in his hand, and, while he raised hisarm, determined to crush the temples of the giant carrying a torch whosprang forward to meet him, it suddenly seemed as if a vulture withglowing plumage and burning beak was attacking his face, and the terriblebird of prey was striking its hard, sharp, red-hot talons more and morefuriously into his lips, cheeks, and eyes. 

At first a glare as bright as sunshine had flashed before his gaze; then, where he had just seen figures and things half veiled by the smoke, hebeheld only a scarlet surface, which changed to a violet, and finally ablack spot, followed by a violet-blue one, while the vulture continuedto rend his face with beak and talons. 

Then the name "Myrtilus!" once more escaped his lips; this time, however, it did not sound like the encouraging shout of an avenging hero, but thecry for aid of one succumbing to defeat, and it was soon followed by asuccession of frantic outbursts of suffering, terror, and despair. 

But now sharp whistles from the water shrilly pierced the air andpenetrated into the darkened room, and, while the tumult around Hermongradually died away, he strove, tortured by burning pain, to grope hisway toward the door; but here his foot struck against a human body, thereagainst something hard, whose form he could not distinguish, and finallya large object which felt cool, and could be nothing but his Demeter. 

But she seemed doomed to destruction, for the smoke was increasing everymoment, and constantly made his open wounds smart more fiercely. 

Suddenly a cooler air fanned his burning face, and at the same time heheard hurrying steps approach and the mingled cries of human voices. 

Again he began to shout the names of his friends, the slaves, and theporter; but no answer came from any of them, though hasty questions inthe Greek language fell upon his ear. 

The strategist, with his officers, the nomarch of the district with hissubordinates, and many citizens of Tennis had arrived. Hermon knew mostof them by their voices, but their figures were not visible. The red, violet, and black cloud before him was all he could see. 

Yet, although the pain continued to torture him, and a voice in his soultold him that he was blinded, he did not allow the government officialswho eagerly surrounded him to speak, only pointed hastily to his eyes, and then bade them enter Myrtilus's studio. The Egyptian Chello, theTennis goldsmith, who had assisted the artists in the preparation of thenoble metal, and one of the police officers who had been summoned to ridthe old house of the rats and mice which infested it, both knew the way. 

They must first try to save Myrtilus's work and, when that wasaccomplished, preserve his also from destruction by the flames. 

Leaning on the goldsmith's arm, Hermon went to his friend's studio; butbefore they reached it smoke and flames poured out so densely that it wasimpossible even to gain the door. 

"Destroyed--a prey to the flames!" he groaned. "And he--he--he--"

Then like a madman he asked if no one had seen Myrtilus, and where hewas; but in vain, always in vain. 

At last the goldsmith who was leading him asked him to move aside, forall who had flocked to the white house when it was seized by the flameshad joined in the effort to save the statue of Demeter, which they hadfound unharmed in his studio. 

Seventeen men, by the exertion of all their strength, were dragging theheavy statue from the house, which was almost on the point of falling in, into the square. Several others were bearing corpses into the open air-the old porter Snuphis and Myrtilus's body servant. Some motionlessforms they were obliged to leave behind. Both the bodies had deepwounds. There was no trace of Myrtilus and Bias. 

Outside the storm had subsided, and a cool breeze blew refreshingly intoHermon's face. As he walked arm in arm with the notary Melampus, who hadinvited him to his house, and heard some one at his side exclaim, "Howlavishly Eos is scattering her roses to-day!" he involuntarily lifted thecloth with which he had covered his smarting face to enjoy the beautifulflush of dawn, but again beheld nothing save a black and violet-bluesurface. 

Then drawing his hand from his guide's arm, he pressed it upon his poor, sightless, burning eyes, and in helpless rage, like a beast of prey whichfeels the teeth of the hunter's iron trap rend his flesh, groanedfiercely, "Blind! blind!" and again, and yet again, "Blind!"

While the morning star was still paling, the lad who after Hermon'slanding had raced along the shore with the burning torch glided into thelittle pronaos of the Temple of Nemesis. 

Ledscha was still standing by the doorpost of the cella with upliftedhand, so deeply absorbed in fervent prayer that she did not perceive theapproach of the messenger until he called her. 

"Succeeded?" she asked in a muffled tone, interrupting his hastygreeting. 

"You must give the goddess what you vowed, " was the reply. "Hanno sendsyou the message. And also, 'You must come with me in the boat quickly-atonce!'"

"Where?" the girl demanded. 

"Not on board the Hydra yet, " replied the boy hurriedly. "First only tothe old man on the Megara. The dowry is ready for your father. Butthere is not a moment to lose. "

"Well, well!" she gasped hoarsely. "But, first, shall I find the manwith the black beard on board of one of the ships?"

"Certainly!" answered the lad proudly, grasping her arm to hurry her;but she shook him off violently, turned toward the cella again, and oncemore lifted her hands and eyes to the statue of Nemesis. 

Then she took up the bundle she had hidden behind a pillar, drew from ita handful of gold coins, which she flung into the box intended forofferings, and followed the boy. 

"Alive?" she asked as she descended the steps; but the lad understood themeaning of the question, and exclaimed: "Yes, indeed! Hanno says thewounds are not at all dangerous. "

"And the other?"

"Not a scratch. On the Hydra, with two severely wounded slaves. Theporter and the others were killed. "

"And the statues?"

"They-such things can't be accomplished without some little blunder-Labaja thinks so, too. "

"Did they escape you?"

"Only one. I myself helped to smash the other, which stood in theworkroom that looks out upon the water. The gold and ivory are on theship. We had horrible work with the statue which stood in the room whosewindows faced the square. They dragged the great monster carefully intothe studio that fronts upon the water. But probably it is still standingthere, if the thing is not already--just see how the flames are whirlingupward!--if it is not already burned with the house. "

"What a misfortune!" Ledscha reproachfully exclaimed. 

"It could not be helped, " the boy protested. "People from Tennissuddenly rushed in. The first--a big, furious fellow-killed our Louleand the fierce Judas. Now he has to pay for it. Little Chareb threw theblack powder into his eyes, while Hanno himself thrust the torch in hisface. "

"And Bias, the blackbeard's slave?"

"I don't know. Oh, yes! Wounded, I believe, on board the ship. "

Meanwhile the lad, a precocious fourteen-year-old cabin-boy from theHydra, pointed to the boat which lay ready, and took Ledscha's bundle inhis hand; but she sprang into the light skiff before him and ordered itto be rowed to the Owl's Nest, where she must bid Mother Tabus good-bye. The cabin-boy, however, declared positively that the command could not beobeyed now, and at his signal two black sailors urged it with swift oarstrokes toward the northwest, to Satabus's ship. Hanno wished to receivehis bride as a wife from his father's hand. 

Ledscha had not insisted upon the fulfilment of her desire, but as theboat passed the Pelican Island her gaze rested on the lustreless waningdisk of the moon. She thought of the torturing night, during which shehad vainly waited here for Hermon, and a triumphant smile hovered aroundher lips; but soon the heavy eyebrows of the girl who was thus leavingher home contracted in a frown--she again fancied she saw, where the moonwas just fading, the body of a gigantic, hideous spider. She banishedthe illusion by speaking to the boy--spiders in the morning meanmisfortune. 

The early dawn, which was now crimsoning the east, reminded her of theblood which, as an avenger, she must yet shed. 

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Camels, which were rarely seen in Egypt