CHAPTER XIII.
The following day the sun shone radiantly, with scorching brilliancy,upon Tennis and the archipelago, which at this season of the yearsurrounded the little city of weavers.
Young Philotas, without going to rest, had set out at dawn in pursuit ofgame, accompanied by a numerous hunting party, to which several of thePelusinian officers belonged. He, too, had brought home a great quantityof booty, with which he had expected to awaken Daphne's admiration, andto lay as a token of homage at her feet. He had intended to lead beforeher garlanded slaves bearing, tied by ropes, bunches of slaughtered wildfowl, but his reception was very different from what he had anticipated.
Instead of praising his exploit, he had been indignantly requested toremove the poor, easily killed victims from her presence; and, woundedand disappointed, he had retired to his magnificent Nile boat, where,spent by his sleepless night, he slumbered so soundly on his softcushions that he did not appear at the breakfast which the gray-hairedcommander of Pelusium had invited him to attend on his galley.
While the others were still feasting there, Daphne was enjoying an houralone with her companion Chrysilla.
She had remained absent from Philippus's banquet, and her pale cheeksshowed the ill effects produced by the excitement of the previous night.
A little before noon Hermon came to see her. He, too, had not gone tothe Pelusinian's breakfast.
After Althea had left him the evening before he went directly backto the white house, and, instead of going to rest, devoted himself toMyrtilus; for the difficulty of breathing, which during his industriouslife in quiet seclusion had not troubled him for several months,attacked him with twofold violence after the gaiety of the previousnight. Hermon had not left him an instant until day brought the suffererrelief, and he no longer needed the supporting hand of his kind nurse.
While Hermon, in his own sleeping room, ordered Bias to anoint his hairand beard and put on festal garments, the slave told him certain thingsthat destroyed the last remnant of composure in his easily agitatedsoul.
With the firm resolution to keep the appointment on Pelican Island,Hermon had gone at sunset, in response to the Alexandrian's invitation,to attend her banquet, and by no means unwillingly, for his parents'old friends were dear to him, and he knew by experience the beneficialinfluence Daphne's sunny, warmhearted nature exerted upon him.
Yet this time he did not find what he expected.
In the first place, he had been obliged to witness how earnestlyPhilotas was pressing his suit, and perceived that her companionChrysilla was most eagerly assisting him. As she saw in the youngaristocrat a suitable husband for the daughter of Archias, and it washer duty to assign the guests their seats at the banquet, she had giventhe cushion beside Daphne to Philotas, and also willingly fulfilledAlthea's desire to have Hermon for her neighbour.
When Chrysilla presented the black-bearded artist to the Thracian, shewould have sworn that Althea found an old acquaintance in the sculptor;but Hermon treated the far-famed relative of Queen Arsinoe as coldlyand distantly as if he now saw her for the first time, and with littlepleasure.
In truth, he was glad to avoid women of Althea's stamp. For some time hehad preferred to associate with the common people, among whom he foundhis best subjects, and kept far aloof from the court circles to whichAlthea belonged, and which, thanks to his birth and his ability as anartist, would easily have been accessible to him also.
The over-refined women who gave themselves airs of avoiding everythingwhich imposes a restraint upon Nature, and therefore, in theirtransparent robes, treated with contempt all that modest Macedoniandames deemed worthy of a genuine woman's consideration, were repulsiveto him--perhaps because they formed so rude a contrast to his noble deadmother and to Daphne.
Although he had been very frequently in feminine society, Althea'smanner at first caused him a certain degree of embarrassment; for, inspite of the fact that he believed he met her here for the first time,there was something familiar about her, especially in the tone of hervoice, and he fancied that her first words were associated with someformer ones.
Yet no! If he had ever met her, he would surely have remembered herred-gold hair and the other peculiarities of a personality which wasremarkable in every respect.
It soon proved that they were total strangers, and he wished matters toremain so.
He was glad that she attracted him so little, for at least she wouldscarcely make the early departure to the Biamite, which he consideredhis duty, a difficult task.
True, he admired from the first the rare milk-white line of her delicateskin, which was wholly free from rouge--his artist eye perceived thatand the wonderfully beautiful shape of her hands and feet. The pose ofthe head on the neck, too, as she turned toward him seemed remarkablyfine. This slender, pliant woman would have been an admirable model!
Again and again she reminded him of a gay Lesbian with whom he hadcaroused for a night during the last Dionysia in Alexandria, yet, oncloser inspection, the two were as different as possible.
The former had been as free and reckless in her conduct as Althea wasreserved. The hair and eyebrows of the Lesbian, instead of reddishgold, were the deepest black, and her complexion--he remembered itperfectly--was much darker. The resemblance probably consisted merely inthe shape of the somewhat too narrow face, with its absolutely straightnose, and a chin which was rather too small, as well as in the sound ofthe high voice.
Not a serious word had reached his ears from the wanton lips of theLesbian, while Althea at once desired information concerning his art,and showed that she was thoroughly familiar with the works and theaspirations of the Alexandrian sculptors. Although aware that Hermon hadbegun his career as an artist, and was the leader of a new tendency,she pretended to belong to the old school, and thereby irritated him tocontradiction and the explanation of his efforts, which were rooted inthe demands of the present day and the life of the flourishing capital.
The Thracian listened to the description of the new art strugglingto present truth, as if these things were welcome surprises, grandrevelations, for which she had waited with eager longing. True, sheopposed every statement hostile to the old beliefs; but her extremelyexpressive features soon betrayed to him that he was stirring her toreflect, shaking her opinions, and winning her to his side.
Already, for the sake of the good cause, he devoted himself with theutmost zeal to the task of convincing Althea; she, however, did not makeit an easy one, but presented clever arguments against his assertions.
Whenever he or she, by way of example, mentioned any well-known workof art, she imitated, as if involuntarily, its pose and action withsurprising fidelity, frequently also in admirable caricature, whoseeffect was extremely comical. What a woman!
She was familiar with whatever Grecian art had created, and the animatedconversation became a bewitching spectacle. When the grammateus Proclus,who as Althea's travelling companion had a certain claim upon herattention, mingled for a while in the discussion and attracted Althea'snotice, Hermon felt injured, and answered his sensible remarks with suchrudeness that the elder man, whose social position was so much higher,angrily turned his back upon him.
Althea had imposed a certain degree of restraint upon herself whiletalking to the grammateus, but during the further conversation withHermon she confessed that she was decidedly of his opinion, and added tothe old reasons for the deposition of beauty and ideality in favour oftruth and reality new ones which surprised the sculptor. When she atlast offered him her hand for a firm alliance, his brain was fevered,and it seemed a great honour when she asked eagerly what would occupyhim in the immediate future.
Passionate sympathy echoed in every word, was expressed in everyfeature, and she listened as if a great happiness was in store forherself when he disclosed the hopes which he based upon the statue ofArachne.
True, as time passed he had spoken more than once of the necessity ofretiring, and before midnight really tried to depart; but he had fallenunder Alt
hea's thrall, and, in reply to her inquiry what must shortenthese exquisite hours, had informed her, in significant words, what drewhim away, and that his delay threatened him with the loss of a modelsuch as the favour of fate rarely bestowed upon an artist.
Now the Thracian for the first time permitted her eyes to make frankconfessions. She also bent forward with a natural movement to examinethe artistic work on a silver vase, and as while doing so her peplosfell over his hand, she pressed it tenderly.
He gazed ardently up at her; but she whispered softly: "Stay! You willgain through me something better than awaits you there, and not only forto-day and to-morrow. We shall meet again in Alexandria, and to serveyour art there shall be a beloved duty."
His power of resistance was broken; yet he beckoned to his slave Bias,who was busied with the mixing jars, and ordered him to seek Ledscha andtell her not to wait longer; urgent duties detained him.
While he was giving this direction, Althea had become engaged in thegay conversation of the others, and, as Thyone called Hermon, and hewas also obliged to speak to Daphne, he could not again obtain anopportunity for private talk with the wonderful woman who held out fargrander prospects for his art than the refractory, rude Biamite maiden.
Soon Althea's performance seemed to prove how fortunate a choice he hadmade. Her Arachne appeared like a revelation to him. If she kept herpromise, and he succeeded in modelling her in the pose assumed whileimagining the process of transformation, and presented her idea to thespectators, the great success which hitherto--because he had notyielded to demands which were opposed to his convictions--he had vainlyexpected, could no longer escape him. The Alexandrian fellow-artists whobelonged to his party would gratefully welcome this special work; forwhat grew out of it would have nothing in common with the fascinationof superhuman beauty, by which the older artists ensnared the hearts andminds of the multitude. He would create a genuine woman, who would notlack defects, yet who, though she inspired neither gratification norrapture, would touch, perhaps even thrill, the heart by absolute truth.
While Althea was standing on the pedestal, she had not only representedthe transformation into the spider, but experienced it, and the featuresof the spectators revealed that they believed they were witnessingthe sinister event. His aim was now to awaken the same feeling in thebeholders of his Arachne. Nothing, nothing at all must be changed inthe figure of the model, in which many might miss the roundness andplumpness so pleasing to the eye. Althea's very defects would perfectthe figure of the restless, wretched weaver whom Athene transformed intothe spider.
While devoting himself to nursing his friend, he had thought far less ofthe new love-happiness which, in spite of her swift flight, was probablyawaiting him through Althea than of the work which was to fill hisexistence in the immediate future.
His healthy body, steeled in the palaestra, felt no fatigue after thesleepless night passed amid so many powerful excitements when he retiredto his chamber and committed himself to the hands of his slave.
It had not been possible to hear his report before, but when he at lastreceived it Hermon was to learn something extremely unpleasant, and notonly because no word of apology or even explanation of his absence hadreached Ledscha.
Bias was little to blame for this neglect, for, in the first place, hehad found no boat to reach the Pelican Island, because half Tenniswas on the road to Tanis, where, on the night of the full moon, thebrilliant festivals of the full eye of Horns and the great Astarte werecelebrated by the mixed population of this place. When a boat whichbelonged to Daphne's galley was finally given to him, the Biamite girlwas no longer at the place appointed for the meeting.
Hoping to find her on the Owl's Nest with old Tabus, he then landedthere, but had been so uncivilly rebuffed on the shore by a rough fellowthat he might be glad to have escaped with sound limbs. Lastly, he stoleto Ledscha's home, and, knowing that her father was absent, had venturedas far as the open courtyard in the centre of the stately dwelling. Thedogs knew him, and as a light was shining from one of the rooms thatopened upon the courtyard, he peeped in and saw Taus, Ledscha's youngersister. She was kneeling before the statue of a god at the back of theroom, weeping, while the old housekeeper had fallen asleep with thedistaff in her lap.
He called cautiously to the pretty child. She was awaiting the return ofher sister, who, she supposed, was still detained on the Owl's Nest byold Tabus's predictions; she had sorrowful tidings for her.
The husband of her friend Gula had returned on his ship and learned thathis wife had gone to the Greek's studio. He had raged like a madman, andturned the unfortunate woman pitilessly out of doors after sunset. Herown parents had only been induced to receive her with great difficulty.Paseth, the jealous husband, had spared her life and refrained fromgoing at once to kill the artist solely because Hermon had saved hislittle daughter at his own peril from the burning house.
"Now," said Ledscha's pretty little sister, "it would also be known thatshe had gone with Gula to his master, who was certainly a handsome man,but for whom, now that young Smethis was wooing her, she cared no morethan she did for her runaway cat. All Tennis would point at her, and shedared not even think what her father would do when he came home."
These communications had increased Hermon's anxiety.
He was a brave man, and did not fear the vengeance of the enragedhusband, against whom he was conscious of no guilt except havingpersuaded his wife to commit an imprudence. What troubled him was onlythe consciousness that he had given her and innocent little Taus everyreason to curse their meeting.
The ardent warmth with which Gula blessed him as the preserver of herchild had given him infinite pleasure. Now it seemed as if he had beenguilty of an act of baseness by inducing her to render a service whichwas by no means free from danger, as though he wished to be paid for agood deed.
Besides, the slave had represented the possible consequences of hisimprudence in the most gloomy light, and, with the assurance of knowingthe disposition of his fellow-countrymen, urged his master to leaveTennis at once; the other Biamite men, who would bear anything ratherthan the interference of a Greek in their married lives, might forceGula's husband to take vengeance on him.
He said nothing about anxiety concerning his own safety, but he had goodreason to fear being regarded as a go-between and called to account forit.
But his warnings and entreaties seemed to find deaf ears in Hermon.True, he intended to leave Tennis as soon as possible, for whatadvantage could he now find here? First, however, he must attend to thepacking of the statues, and then try to appease Ledscha, and make Gula'shusband understand that he was casting off his pretty wife unjustly.
He would not think of making a hasty departure, he told the slave,especially as he was to meet Althea, Queen Arsinoe's art-appreciatingrelative, in whom he had gained a friend, later in Alexandria.
Then Bias informed him of a discovery to which one of the Thracian'sslave women had helped him, and what he carelessly told his master drovethe blood from his cheeks, and, though his voice was almost stifled bysurprise and shame, made him assail him with questions.
What great thing had he revealed? There had been reckless gaiety atevery festival of Dionysus since he had been in the artist's service,and the slaves had indulged in the festal mirth no less freely than themasters. To intoxicate themselves with wine, the gift of the god to whomthey were paying homage, was not only permitted, but commanded, and thejuice of the grape proved its all-equalizing power.
There had been no lack of pretty companions even for him, the bondman,and the most beautiful of all had made eyes at his master, the tall,slender man with the splendid black beard.
The reckless Lesbian who had favoured Hermon at the last Dionysia hadplayed pranks with him madly enough, but then had suddenly vanished. Byhis master's orders Bias had tried to find her again, but, in spite ofhonest search, in vain.
Just now he had met, as Althea's maid, the little Syrian Margula, whohad been in her company, and raced along in
the procession of bacchanalsin his, Bias's, arms. True, she could not be persuaded to make a frankconfession, but he, Bias, would let his right hand wither if Hermon'scompanion at the Dionysia was any other than Althea. His master wouldown that he was right if he imagined her with black hair instead of red.Plenty of people in Alexandria practised the art of dyeing, and it waswell known that Queen Arsinoe herself willingly mingled in the throng atthe Dionysia with a handsome Ephebi, who did not suspect the identity ofhis companion.
This was the information which had so deeply agitated Hermon, and thenled him, after pacing to and fro a short time, to go first to Myrtilusand then to Daphne.
He had found his friend sleeping, and though every fibre of his beingurged him to speak to him, he forced himself to leave the suffererundisturbed.
Yet so torturing a sense of dissatisfaction with himself, so keen aresentment against his own adverse destiny had awaked within him, thathe could no longer endure to remain in the presence of his work, withwhich he was more and more dissatisfied.
Away from the studio!
There was a gay party on board the galley of his parents' old friends.Wine should bring him forgetfulness, too, bless him again with the senseof joyous existence which he knew so well, and which he now seemed onthe point of losing.
When he had once talked and drunk himself into the right mood, lifewould wear a less gloomy face.
No! It should once more be a gay and reckless one.
And Althea?
He would meet her, with whom he had once caroused and revelled madlyenough in the intoxication of the last Dionysia, and, instead ofallowing himself to be fooled any longer and continuing to bowrespectfully before her, would assert all the rights she had formerly soliberally granted.
He would enjoy to-day, forget to-morrow, and be gay with the gay.
Eager for new pleasure, he drew a long breath as he went out into theopen air, pressed his hands upon his broad chest, and with his eyesfixed upon the commandant of Pelusium's galley, bedecked with flags,walked swiftly toward the landing place.
Suddenly from the deck, shaded by an awning, the loud laugh of a woman'sshrill voice reached his ear, blended with the deeper tones ofthe grammateus, whose attacks on the previous night Hermon had notforgotten.
He stopped as if the laugh had pierced him to the heart. Proclusappeared to be on the most familiar terms with Althea, and to meethim with the Thracian now seemed impossible. He longed for mirth andpleasure, but was unwilling to share it with these two. As he dared notdisturb Myrtilus, there was only one place where he could find what heneeded, and this was--he had said so to himself when he turned his backon his sleeping friend--in Daphne's society.
Only yesterday he would have sought her without a second thought, butto-day Althea's declaration that he was the only man whom the daughterof Archias loved stood between him and his friend.
He knew that from childhood she had watched his every step with sisterlyaffection. A hundred times she had proved her loyalty; yet, dear as shewas to him, willingly as he would have risked his life to save her froma danger, it had never entered his mind to give the tie that united themthe name of love.
An older relative of both in Alexandria had once advised him, whenhe was complaining of his poverty, to seek her hand, but his pride ofmanhood rebelled against having the wealth which fate denied flung intohis lap by a woman. When she looked at him with her honest eyes, hecould never have brought himself to feign anything, least of all apassion of which, tenderly attached to her though he had been for years,hitherto he had known nothing.
"Do you love her?" Hermon asked himself as he walked toward Daphne'stent, and the anticipated "No" had pressed itself upon him far lessquickly than he expected.
One thing was undeniably certain: whoever won her for a wife--eventhough she were the poorest of the poor--must be numbered among the mostenviable of men. And should he not recognise in his aversion to everyone of her suitors, and now to the aristocratic young Philotas, afeeling which resembled jealousy?
No! He did not and would not love Daphne. If she were really his, andwhatever concerned him had become hers, with whom could he have soughtin hours like these soothing, kind, and sensible counsel, comfort thatcalmed the heart, and the refreshing dew which his fading courage andfaltering creative power required?
The bare thought of touching clay and wax with his fingers, or takinghammer, chisel, and file in his hands, was now repulsive; and when, justoutside of the tent, a Biamite woman who was bringing fish to the cookreminded him of Ledscha, and that he had lost in her the right model forhis Arachne, he scarcely regretted it.