Arachne — Complete

  CHAPTER III.

  It must be late, for Hermon felt the cool breeze, which in this regionrose between midnight and sunrise, on his burned face and, shivering,drew his mantle closer round him.

  Yet it seemed impossible to return to the cabin; the memory of Ledschaimploring vengeance, and the stern image of the avenging goddess in thecella of the little Temple of Nemesis, completely mastered him. Inthe close cabin these terrible visions, united with the fear of havingreaped undeserved praise, would have crouched upon his breast likeharpies and stifled or driven him mad. After what had happened, tonumber the swift granting of the insulted Biamite's prayer among thefreaks of chance was probably a more arbitrary and foolish proceedingthan, with so many others, to recognise the incomprehensible power ofNemesis. Ledscha had loosed it against him and his health, perhaps evenhis life, and he imagined that she was standing before him with thebridle and wheel, threatening him afresh.

  Shivering, as if chilled to the bone, overwhelmed by intense horror,he turned his blinded eyes upward to the blackness above and raised hishand, for the first time since he had joined the pupils of Straton inthe Museum, to pray. He besought Nemesis to be content, and not add toblindness new tortures to augment the terrible ones which rent his soul,and he did so with all the ardour of his passionate nature.

  The steward Gras had received orders to wake the Lady Thyone if anythingunusual happened to the blind man, and when he heard the unfortunateartist groan so pitifully that it would have moved a stone, and saw himraise his hand despairingly to his head, he thought it was time to utterwords of consolation, and a short time after the anxious matron followedhim.

  Her low exclamation startled Hermon. To be disturbed in the firstprayer after so long a time, in the midst of the cries of distress of adespairing soul, is scarcely endurable, and the blind man imposed littlerestraint upon himself when his old friend asked what had occurred, andurged him not to expose himself longer to the damp night air.

  At first he resolutely resisted, declaring that he should lose hissenses alone in the close cabin.

  Then, in her cordial, simple way, she offered to bear him company in thecabin. She could not sleep longer, at any rate; she must leave him earlyin the morning, and they still had many things to confide to each other.

  Touched by so much kindness, he yielded and, leaning on the Bithynian'sarm, followed her, not into his little cabin, but into the captain'sspacious sitting room.

  Only a single lamp dimly lighted the wainscoting, composed of ebony,ivory, and tortoise shell, the gay rug carpet, and the giraffe andpanther skins hung on the walls and doors and flung on the couches andthe floor.

  Thyone needed no brilliant illumination for this conversation, and theblinded man was ordered to avoid it.

  The matron was glad to be permitted to communicate to Hermon so speedilyall that filled her own heart.

  While he remained on deck, she had gone to Daphne's cabin.

  She had already retired, and when Thyone went to the side of the couchshe found the girl, with her cheeks wet with tears, still weeping,and easily succeeded in leading the motherless maiden to make a frankconfession.

  Both cousins had been dear to her from childhood; but while Myrtilus,though often impeded by his pitiable sufferings, had reached by a smoothpathway the highest recognition, Hermon's impetuous toiling and strivinghad constantly compelled her to watch his course with anxious solicitudeand, often unobserved, extend a helping hand.

  Sympathy, disapproval, and fear, which, however, was always blended withadmiration of his transcendent powers, had merged into love. Though hehad disdained to return it, it had nevertheless been perfectly evidentthat he needed her, and valued her and her opinion. Often as their viewsdiffered, the obstinate boy and youth had never allowed any one exceptherself a strong influence over his acts and conduct. But, far as heseemed to wander from the paths which she believed the right ones,she had always held fast to the conviction that he was a man of noblenature, and an artist who, if he only once fixed his eyes upon thetrue goal, would far surpass by his mighty power the other Alexandriansculptors, whatever names they bore, and perhaps even Myrtilus.

  To the great vexation of her father who, after her mother's death, inan hour when his heart was softened, had promised that he would neverimpose any constraint upon her in the choice of a husband, she hadhitherto rejected every suitor. She had showed even the distinguishedPhilotas in Pelusium, without the least reserve, that he was seeking herin vain; for just at that time she thought she had perceived thatHermon returned her love, and after his abrupt departure it had becomeperfectly evident that the happiness of her life depended upon him.

  The terrible misfortune which had now befallen him had only bound hermore firmly to the man she loved. She felt that she belonged to himindissolubly, and the leech's positive assurance that his blindnesswas incurable had only increased the magic of the thought of being andaffording tenfold more to the man bereft of sight than when, possessinghis vision, the world, life, and art belonged to him. To be able tolavish everything upon the most beloved of mortals, and do whatever herwarm, ever-helpful heart prompted, seemed to her a special favour of thegods in whom she believed.

  That it was Demeter, to the ranks of whose priestesses she belonged, whowas so closely associated with his blinding, also seemed to her no merework of chance. The goddess on whom Hermon had bestowed the features ofher own face had deprived him of sight to confer upon her the happinessof brightening and beautifying the darkness of his life.

  If she saw aright, and it was only the fear of obtaining, with herself,her wealth, that still kept him from her, the path which would finallyunite them must be found at last. She hoped to conquer also her father'sreluctance to give his only child in marriage to a blind man, especiallyas Hermon's last work promised to give him the right to rank with thebest artists of his age.

  The matron had listened to this confession with an agitated heart.She had transported herself in imagination into the soul of the girl'smother, and brought before her mind what objections the dead woman wouldhave made to her daughter's union with a man deprived of sight; butDaphne had firmly insisted upon her wish, and supported it by manya sensible and surprising answer. She was beyond childhood, and herthree-and-twenty years enabled her to realize the consequences which sounusual a marriage threatened to entail.

  As for Thyone herself, she was always disposed to look on the brightside, and the thought that this vigorous young man, this artist crownedwith the highest success, must remain in darkness to the end of hislife, was utterly incompatible with her belief in the goodness of thegods. But if Hermon was cured, a rare wealth of the greatest happinessawaited him in the union with Daphne.

  The mood in which she found the blind man had wounded and troubled her.Now she renewed the bandage, saying: "How gladly I would continue touse my old hands for you, but this will be the last time in a long whilethat I am permitted to do this for the son of my Erigone; I must leaveyou to-morrow."

  Hermon clasped her hand closely, exclaiming with affectionate warmth:"You must not go, Thyone! Stay here, even if it is only a few dayslonger."

  What pleasure these words gave her, and how gladly she would havefulfilled his wish! But it could not be, and he did not venture todetain her by fresh entreaties after she had described how her agedhusband was suffering from her absence.

  "I often ask myself what he still finds in me," she said. "True, so longa period of wedded life is a firm tie. If I am gone and he does not findme when he returns home from inspections, he wanders about as if lost,and does not even relish his food, though the same cook has prepared itfor years. And he, who forgets nothing and knows by name a large numberof the many thousand men he commands, would very probably, when I amaway, join the troops with only sandals on his feet. To miss my uglyold face really can not be so difficult! When he wooed me, of courseI looked very different. And so--he confessed it himself--so he alwayssees me, and most plainly when I am absent from his sight. But that,Hermon, will be
your good fortune also. All you now know as young andbeautiful will continue so to you as long as this sorrowful blindnesslasts, and on that very account you must not remain alone, my boy--thatis, if your heart has already decided in favour of any one--and that isthe case, unless these old eyes deceive me."

  "Daphne," he answered dejectedly, "why should I deny that she is dear tome? And yet, how dare the blind man take upon himself the sin of bindingher young life--"

  "Stop! stop!" Thyone interrupted with eager warmth. "She loves you, andto be everything to you is the greatest happiness she can imagine."

  "Until repentance awakes, and it is too late," he answered gravely."But even were her love strong enough to share her husband's misfortunepatiently--nay, perhaps with joyous courage--it would still becontemptible baseness were I to profit by that love and seek her hand."

  "Hermon!" the matron now exclaimed reproachfully; but he repeated withstrong emphasis: "Yes, it would be baseness so great that even her mostardent love could not save me from the reproach of having committed it.I will not speak of her father, to whom I am so greatly indebted. It maybe that it might satisfy Daphne, full of kindness as she is, to devoteherself, body and soul, to the service of her helpless companion. ButI? Far from thinking constantly, like her, solely of others and theirwelfare, I should only too often, selfish as I now am, be mindful ofmyself. But when I realize who I am, I see before me a blind man who ispoorer than a beggar, because the scorching flames melted even the goldwhich was to help him pay his debts."

  "Folly!" cried the matron. "For what did Archias gather his boundlesstreasures? And when his daughter is once yours--"

  "Then," Hermon went on bitterly, "the blinded artist's poverty will beover. That is your opinion, and the majority of people will share it.But I have my peculiarities, and the thought of being rescued fromhunger and thirst by the woman I love, and who ought to see in me theman from whom she receives the best gifts--to be dependent on her asthe recipient of her alms--seems to me worse than if I were once more tolose my sight. I could not endure it at all! Every mouthful would chokeme. Just because she is so dear to me, I can not seek her hand; for,in return for her great self-sacrificing love, I could give her nothingsave the keen discontent which seizes the proud soul that is forcedconstantly to accept benefits, as surely as the ringing sound followsthe blow upon the brass. My whole future life would become a chain ofhumiliations, and do you know whither this unfortunate marriage wouldlead? My teacher Straton once said that a man learns to hate no one moreeasily than the person from whom he receives benefits which it is outof his power to repay. That is wise, and before I will see my great lovefor Daphne transformed to hate, I will again try the starving which,while I was a sculptor at Rhodes, I learned tolerably well."

  "But would not a great love," asked Thyone, "suffice to repay tenfoldthe perishable gifts that can be bought with gold and silver?"

  "No, and again no!" Hermon answered in an agitated tone. "Something elsewould blend with the love I brought to the marriage, something that mustdestroy all the compensation it might offer; for I see myself becominga resentful misanthrope if I am compelled to relinquish the pleasure ofcreating and, condemned to dull inaction, can do nothing except allowmyself to be tended, drink, eat, and sleep. The gloomy mood of herunfortunate husband would sadden Daphne's existence even more than myown; for, Thyone, though I should strive with all my strength to bearpatiently, with her dear aid, the burden imposed upon me, and move onthrough the darkness with joyous courage, like many another blind man, Icould not succeed."

  "You are a man," the matron exclaimed indignantly, "and what thousandshave done before you--"

  "There," he loudly protested, "I should surely fail; for, you dearwoman, who mean so kindly by me, my fate is worse than theirs. Do youknow what just forced from my lips the exclamation of pain which alarmedyou? I, the only child of the devout Erigone, for whose sake you are sowell disposed toward me, am doomed to misfortune as surely as the victimdragged to the altar is certain of death. Of all the goddesses, there isonly one in whose power I believe, and to whom I just raised my hands inprayer. It is the terrible one to whom I was delivered by hate and thedeceived love which is now dragging me by the hair, and will rob andtorture me till I despair of life. I mean the gray daughter of Night,whom no one escapes, dread Nemesis."

  Thyone sank down into the chair by the blind artist's side, askingsoftly, "And what gave you into her avenging hands, hapless boy?"

  "My own abominable folly," he answered mournfully and, with the feelingthat it would relieve his heart to pour out to this true friend what hewould usually have confided only to his Myrtilus, he hurriedly relatedhow he had recognised in Ledscha the best model for his Arachne, how hehad sought her love, and then, detained by Althea, left her in the lurchand most deeply offended and insulted her. Lastly, he gave a brief butvivid description of his meeting with the vengeful barbarian girl inthe Temple of Nemesis, how Ledscha had invoked upon him the wrath of theterrible goddess, and how the most horrible punishment had fallen uponhim directly after the harsh accusation of the Biamite.

  The matron had listened to this confession in breathless suspense. Nowshe fixed her eyes on the floor, shook her gray head gently, and saidanxiously: "Is that it? It certainly puts things in a different light.As the son of your never-to-be-forgotten mother, you are indeed dear tomy heart; but Daphne is not less dear to me, and though in your marriageI just saw happiness for you both, that is now past. What is poverty,what is blindness! Eros would reconcile far more difficult problems, buthis arrows are shattered on the armour of Nemesis. Where there is a pairof lovers, and she raises her scourge against one of them, the otherwill also be struck. Until you feel that you are freed from thispersecutor, it would be criminal to bind a loving woman to you and yourdestiny. It is not easy to find the right path for you both, for evenNemesis and her power do not make the slightest change in the fact thatyou need faithful care and watching in your blindness. Daylight bringswisdom, and we will talk further to-morrow."

  She rose as she spoke; but Hermon detained her, while from his lipsescaped the anxious question, "So you will take Daphne away from me, andleave me alone in my blindness?"

  "You in your blindness?" cried Thyone, and the mere reproachful tone ofthe question banished the fear. "I would as quickly deprive my own sonof my support as I would you just at this time, my poor boy; but whethermy conscience will permit me to let Daphne remain near you only grantme, I repeat it, until sunrise to-morrow for reflection. My old heartwill then find the right way."

  "Yet whatever you may decide concerning us," pleaded the blind man,"tell Daphne that, on the eve of losing her, I first felt in its fullpower how warmly I love her. Even without Nemesis, the joy of makingher mine would have been denied me. Fate will never permit me to possessher; yet never again to hear her gentle voice, never more to feel herdear presence, would be blinding me a second time."

  "It need not be imposed upon you long," said the matron soothingly.

  Then she went close to him, laid her hand on his shoulder, and said:"The power of the goddess who punishes the misdeeds of the reckless iscalled irresistible and uncontrollable; but one thing softens even her,and checks her usually resistless wheel: it is a mother's prayer. Iheard this from my own mother, and experienced it myself, especially inmy oldest son Eumedes, who from the wildest madcap became an ornamentof his class, and to whom the King--you doubtless know it--intrusted thecommand of the fleet which is to open the Ethiopian land of elephantsto the Egyptian power. You, Hermon, are an orphan, but for you, too,the souls of your parents live on. Only I do not know whether you stillhonour and pray to them."

  "I did until a few years ago," replied Hermon.

  "But later you neglected this sacred duty," added Thyone. "Yet how wasthat possible? In our barren Pelusium I could not help thinking hundredsof times of the grove which Archias planted in your necropolis for thedead members of his family, and how often, while we were in Alexandria,it attracted me to think in its shade o
f your never-to-be-forgottenmother. There I felt her soul near me; for there was her home, and inimagination I saw her walking and resting under the trees. And you--herbeloved child--you remained aloof from this hallowed spot! Even at thefestival of the dead you omitted prayers and sacrifices?"

  The blind artist assented to this question by a silent bend of the head;but the matron indignantly exclaimed: "And did not you know, unhappyman, that you were thus casting away the shield which protects mortalsfrom the avenging gods? And your glorious mother, who would have givenher life for you? Yet you loved her, I suppose?"

  "Thyone!" Hermon cried, deeply wounded, holding out his right hand as ifin defence. "Well, well!" said the matron. "I know that you revere hermemory. But that alone is not sufficient. On memorial festivals, andespecially on the birthdays, a mother's soul needs a prayer and a giftfrom the son, a wreath, a fillet, fragrant ointment, a piece of honey, acup of wine or milk--all these things even the poor man spares from hispenury--yet a warm prayer, in pure remembrance and love, would sufficeto rob the wrath of Nemesis, which the enraged barbarian girl let looseupon you, of its power. Only your mother, Hermon, the soul of the noblewoman who bore you, can restore to you what you have lost. Appeal foraid to her, son of Erigone, and she will yet make everything right."

  Bending quickly over the artist as she spoke, she kissed his brow andmoved steadily away, though he called her name with yearning entreaty.

  A short time after, the steward Gras led Hermon to his cabin, and whileundressing him reported that a messenger from Pelusium had announcedthat the commandant Philippus was coming to Tennis the next morning,before the market place filled, to take his wife with him to Alexandria,where he was going by the King's command.

  Hermon only half listened, and then ordered the Bithynian to leave him.

  After he had reclined on the couch a short time, he softly called thenames of the steward, Thyone, and Daphne. As he received no answer, andthus learned that he was alone, he rose, drew himself up to his fullheight, gazed heavenward with his bandaged eyes, stretched both handstoward the ceiling of the low cabin, and obeyed his friend's bidding.

  Thoroughly convinced that he was doing right, and ashamed of havingso long neglected what the duty of a son commanded, he implored hismother's soul for forgiveness.

  While doing so he again found that the figure which he recalled to hismemory appeared before him with marvellous distinctness. Never had shebeen so near him since, when a boy of seven, she clasped him for thelast time to her heart. She tenderly held out her arms to him, and herushed into her embrace, shouting exultantly while she hugged and kissedhim. Every pet name which he had once been so glad to hear, and duringrecent years had forgotten, again fell from her lips. As had oftenhappened in days long past, he again saw his mother crown him for afestival. Pleased with the little new garment which she herself hadwoven for him and embroidered with a tiny tree with red apples, beneathwhich stood a bright-plumaged duckling, she led him by the hand in thenecropolis to the empty tomb dedicated to his father.

  It was a building the height of a man, constructed of red Cyprianmarble, on which, cast in bronze, shield, sword, and lance, as well asa beautiful helmet, lay beside a sleeping lion. It was dedicated tothe memory of the brave hipparch whom he had been permitted to call hisfather, and who had been burned beside the battlefield on which he hadfound a hero's death.

  Hermon now again beheld himself, with his mother, garlanding, anointing,and twining with fresh fillets the mausoleum erected by his uncleArchias to his brave brother. The species of every flower, the colourof the fillets-nay, even the designs embroidered on his little holidayrobe--again returned to his mind, and, while these pleasant memorieshovered around him, he appealed to his mother in prayer.

  She stood before him, young and beautiful, listening without reproach orcensure as he besought her forgiveness and confided to her his sins, andhow severely he was punished by Nemesis.

  During this confession he felt as though he was kneeling before thebeloved dead, hiding his face in her lap, while she bent over him andstroked his thick, black hair. True, he did not hear her speak; but whenhe looked up again he could see, by the expression of her faithful blueeyes, that his manly appearance surprised her, and that she rejoiced inhis return to her arms.

  She listened compassionately to his laments, and when he pausedpressed his head to her bosom and gazed into his face with such joyousconfidence that his heart swelled, and he told himself that she couldnot look at him thus unless she saw happiness in store for him.

  Lastly, he began also to confide that he loved no woman on earth moreardently than the very Daphne whom, when only a pretty little child, shehad carried in her arms, yet that he could not seek the wealthy heiressbecause manly pride forbade this to the blind beggar.

  Here the anguish of renunciation seized him with great violence, andwhen he wished to appeal again to his mother his exhausted imaginationrefused its service, and the vision would not appear.

  Then he groped his way back to the bed, and, as he let his head sinkupon the pillows, he fancied that he would soon be again enwrapped inthe sweet slumber of childhood, which had long shunned his couch.

  It was years since he had felt so full of peace and hope, and he toldhimself, with grateful joy, that every childlike emotion had not yetdied within him, that the stern conflicts and struggles of the lastyears had not yet steeled every gentle emotion.