CHAPTER IX.
The sculptor's head was burning feverishly when he entered the vehicle.He had never imagined that the consequences of his explanation wouldbe so terrible. During the drive--by no means a long one--to the greatharbour, he strove to collect his thoughts. Groaning aloud, he coveredhis ears with his hands to shut out the shouts and hisses from thepalaestra, which in reality were no longer audible.
True, he would not need to expose himself to this uproar a second time,yet if he remained in Alexandria the witticisms, mockery, and jibes ofthe whole city, though in a gentler form, would echo hundreds of timesaround him.
He must leave the city. He would have preferred to go on board thestaunch Tacheia and be borne far away with his uncle and Daphne, but hewas obliged to deny himself the fulfilment of this desire. He must nowthink solely of regaining his sight.
Obedient to the oracle, he would go to the desert where from the"starving sand" the radiant daylight was to rise anew for him.
There he would, at any rate, be permitted to recover the clearnessof perception and feeling which he had lost in the delirium of thedissolute life of pleasure that he had led in the past. Pythagoras hadalready forbidden the folly of spoiling the present by remorse; andhe, too, did not do this. It would have been repugnant to his genuinelyGreek nature. Instead of looking backward with peevish regret, hispurpose was to look with blithe confidence toward the future, and to dohis best to render it better and more fruitful than the months of revelwhich lay behind him.
He could no longer imagine a life worth living without Daphne, and thethought that if his uncle were robbed of his wealth he would become hersupport cheered his heart. If the oracle did not fulfil its promise, hewould again appeal to medical skill, and submit even to the most severesuffering which might be imposed upon him.
The drive to the great harbour was soon over, but the boat which laywaiting for him had a considerable distance to traverse, for the Tacheiawas no longer at the landing place, but was tacking outside the Pharos,in order, if the warrant of arrest were issued, not to be stopped atthe channel dominated by the lighthouse. He found the slender triremepervaded by a restless stir. His uncle had long been expecting him withburning impatience.
He knew, through Philippus, what duty still detained the deceivedartist, but he learned, at the same time, that his own imprisonment hadbeen determined, and it would be advisable for him to leave the citybehind him as quickly as possible. Yet neither Daphne nor he was willingto depart without saying farewell to Hermon.
But the danger was increasing every moment, and, warm as was theparting, the last clasp of the hand and kiss swiftly followed the firstwords of greeting.
So the blind artist learned only that Archias was going to the island ofLesbos, his mother's home, and that he had promised his daughter togive Hermon time to recover his sight. The property bequeathed to him byMyrtilus had been placed by the merchant in the royal bank, and he hadalso protected himself against any chance of poverty. Hermon was to sendnews of his health to Lesbos from time to time if a safe opportunityoffered and, when Daphne knew where he was to be found, she could lethim have tidings. Of course, for the present great caution must beexercised in order not to betray the abode of the fugitives.
Hermon, too, ought to evade the pursuit of the incensed King as quicklyas possible.
Not only Daphne's eyes, but her father's also, overflowed with tears atthis parting, and Hermon perceived more plainly than ever that he was asdear to his uncle as though he were his own son.
The low words which the artist exchanged with the woman whose love, evenduring the period of separation, would shed light and warmth upon hisdarkened life, were deeply impressed upon the souls of both.
For the present, faithful Gras was to remain in charge of his master'shouse in Alexandria. Leaning on his arm, the blind man left the Tacheia,which, as soon as both had entered the boat, was urged forward bypowerful strokes of the oars.
The Bithynian informed Hermon that kerchiefs were waving him a farewellfrom the trireme, that the sails had been unfurled, and the wind wasdriving the swift vessel before it like a swallow.
At the Pharos Gras reported that a royal galley was just passing them,undoubtedly in pursuit of the Tacheia; but the latter was the swiftestof all the Greek vessels, and they need not fear that she would beovertaken by the war ship.
With a sore heart and the desolate feeling of being now utterly alone,Hermon again landed and ordered that his uncle's harmamaxa should conveyhim to the necropolis. He desired to seek peace at his mother's grave,and to take leave of these beloved tombs.
Guided by the steward, he left them cheered and with fresh confidence inthe future, and the faithful servant's account of the energy with whichDaphne had aided the preparations for departure benefited him like arefreshing bath.
When he was again at home, one visitor after another was announced,who came there from the festival in the palaestra, and, in spite ofhis great reluctance to receive them, he denied no one admittance, butlistened even to the ill-disposed and spiteful.
In the battle which he had commenced he must not shrink from wounds,and he was struck by many a poisoned shaft. But, to make amends, a clearunderstanding was effected between him and those whom he esteemed.
The last caller left him just before midnight.
Hermon now made many preparations for departure.
He intended to go into the desert with very little luggage, as theoracle seemed to direct. How long a time his absence would extend couldnot be estimated, and the many poor people whom he had fed and supportedmust not suffer through his departure. The arrangements required toeffect this he dictated to the slave, who understood writing. He hadgained in him an extremely capable servant, and Patran expressed hisreadiness to follow him into the desert; but the wry face which, surethat the blind man could not see him, he made while saying so, seemed toprove the contrary.
Weary, and yet too excited to find sleep, Hermon at last went to rest.
If his Myrtilus had been with him now, what would he not have had to sayto express his gratitude, to explain! How overjoyed he would have beenat the fulfilment of his wish to see him united to Daphne, at least inheart; with what fiery ardour he would have upbraided those who believedhim capable of having appropriated what belonged to another!
But Myrtilus was no more, and who could tell whether his body had notremained unburied, and his soul was therefore condemned to be bornerestlessly between heaven and earth, like a leaf driven by the wind?Yet, if the earth covered him, where was the spot on which sacrificescould be offered to his soul, his tombstone could be anointed, and hehimself remembered?
Then a doubt which had never before entered his mind suddenly tookpossession of Hermon.
Since for so many months he had firmly believed his friend's work to behis own, he might also have fallen into another delusion, and Myrtilusmight still dwell among the living.
At this thought the blind man, with a swift movement, sat erect upon hiscouch; it seemed as if a bright light blazed before his eyes in the darkroom.
The reasons which had led the authorities to pronounce Myrtilus deadrendered his early end probable, it is true, yet by no means proved itabsolutely. He must hold fast to that.
He who, ever since he returned to Alexandria from Tennis, had squanderedprecious time as if possessed by evil demons, would now make a betteruse of it. Besides, he longed to leave the capital. What! Suppose heshould now, even though it were necessary to delay obeying the oracle'scommand, search, traverse, sail through the world in pursuit ofMyrtilus, even, if it must be, to the uttermost Thule?
But he fell back upon the couch as quickly as he had started up.
"Blind! blind!" he groaned in dull despair. How could he, who wasnot able even to see his hand before his eyes, succeed in finding hisfriend?
And yet, yet----
Had his mind been darkened with his eyes, that this thought came to himnow for the first time, that he had not sent messengers to all quartersof
the globe to find some trace of the assailants and, with them, of thelost man?
Perhaps it was Ledscha who had him in her power, and, while hewas pondering and forming plans for the best way of conductinginvestigations, the dimmed image of the Biamite again returneddistinctly to his mind, and with it that of Arachne and the spider, intowhich the goddess transformed the weaver.
Half overcome by sleep, he saw himself, staff in hand, led by Daphne,cross green meadows and deserts, valleys and mountains, to seek hisfriend; yet whenever he fancied he caught sight of him, and Ledscha withhim, in the distance, the spider descended from above and, with magicalspeed, wove a net which concealed both from his gaze.
Groaning and deeply disturbed, half awake, he struggled onward, alwaystoward one goal, to find his Myrtilus again, when suddenly the sound ofthe knocker on the entrance door and the barking of Lycas, his Arabiangreyhound, shook the house.
Recalled to waking life, he started up and listened.
Had the men who were to arrest him or inquisitive visitors not allowedthemselves to be deterred even by the late hour?
He listened angrily as the old porter sternly accosted the late guest;but, directly after, the gray-haired native of the region near the FirstCataract burst into the strange Nubian oaths which he lavished liberallywhenever anything stirred his aged soul.
The dog, which Hermon had owned only a few months, continued to bark;but above his hostile baying the blind man thought he recognised a nameat whose sound the blood surged hotly into his cheeks. Yet he couldscarcely have heard aright!
Still he sprang from the couch, groped his way to the door, opened it,and entered the impluvium that adjoined his bedroom. The cool night airblew upon him from the open ceiling. A strong draught showed that thedoor leading from the atrium was being opened, and now a shout, halfchoked by weeping, greeted him: "Hermon! My clear, my poor belovedmaster!"
"Bias, faithful Bias!" fell from the blind man's lips, and when he feltthe returned slave sink down before him, cover his hand with kisses andwet it with tears, he raised him in his strong arms, clasped him in awarm embrace, kissed his checks, and gasped, "And Myrtilus, my Myrtilus,is he alive?"
"Yes, yes, yes," sobbed Bias. "But you, my lord-blind, blind! Can it betrue?"
When Hermon released him to inquire again about his friend, Biasstammered: "He isn't faring so badly; but you, you, bereft of light andalso of the joy of seeing your faithful Bias again! And the immortalsprolong one's years to experience such evils! Two griefs always belongto one joy, like two horses to a chariot."
"My wise Bias! Just as you were of old!" cried Hermon in joyfulexcitement.
Then he quieted the hound and ordered one of the attendants, who camehurrying in, to bring out whatever dainty viands the house contained anda jar of the best Byblus wine from the cellar.
Meanwhile he did not cease his inquiries about his friend's health, andordered a goblet to be brought him also, that he might pledge the slaveand give brief answers to his sympathizing questions about the cause ofthe blindness, the noble Archias, the gracious young mistress Daphne,the famous Philippus and his wife, the companion Chrysilla, and thesteward Gras. Amid all this he resolved to free the faithful fellow and,while Bias was eating, he could not refrain from telling him that he hadfound a mistress for him, that Daphne was the wife whom he had chosen,but the wedding was still a long way off.
He controlled his impatience to learn the particulars concerning hisfriend's fate until Bias had partially satisfied his hunger.
A short time ago Hermon would have declared it impossible that he couldever become so happy during this period of conflict and separation fromthe object of his love.
The thought of his lost inheritance doubtless flitted through hismind, but it seemed merely like worthless dust, and the certaintythat Myrtilus still walked among the living filled him with uncloudedhappiness. Even though he could no longer see him, he might expect tohear his beloved voice again. Oh, what delight that he was permitted tohave his friend once more, as well as Daphne, that he could meet himso freely and joyously and keep the laurel, which had rested with suchleaden weight upon his head, for Myrtilus, and for him alone!
But where was he?
What was the name of the miracle which had saved him, and yet kept himaway from his embrace so long?
How had Myrtilus and Bias escaped the flames and death on that night ofhorror?
A flood of questions assailed the slave before he could begin aconnected account, and Hermon constantly interrupted it to ask fordetails concerning his friend and his health at each period and on everyoccasion.
Much surprised by his discreet manner, the artist listened to thebondman's narrative; for though Bias had formerly allowed himself toindulge in various little familiarities toward his master, he refrainedfrom them entirely in this story, and the blind man's misfortuneinvested him in his eyes with a peculiar sacredness.