CHAPTER VII.
The slave Bias had not gone to the hunting party with his master. He hadnever been fit for such expeditions, since the Egyptian guard who tookhim to the slave market for sale crippled the arch-traitor's son's leftleg by a blow, but he was all the more useful in the house, and even thekeenest eye could scarcely now perceive the injury which lessened hiscommercial value.
He had prepared everything his master would need to shoot the birds veryearly in the morning, and after helping the men push the boats into thewater, he, too, remained out of doors.
The old Nubian doorkeeper's little badger dog ran to meet him, as usual,barking loudly, and startled a flock of sparrows, which flew up directlyin front of Bias and fluttered to and fro in confusion.
The slave regarded this as an infallible omen, and when Stephanion,Daphne's maid, who had grown gray in the household of Archias, andthough a freed woman still worked in the old way, came out of the tent,he called to her the gay Greek greeting, "Rejoice!" pointed to thesparrows, and eagerly continued: "How one flies above another! how theyflutter and chirp and twitter! It will be a busy day."
Stephanion thought this interpretation of the ordinary action of thebirds very consistent with Bias's wisdom, which was highly esteemed inthe household of Archias, and it also just suited her inclination tochat with him for a while, especially as she had brought a great deal ofnews from Alexandria.
By way of introduction she mentioned the marriages and deaths in theircircle of acquaintances, bond and free, and then confided to the slavewhat had induced her mistress to remain so long absent from her father,whom she usually left alone for only a few hours at the utmost.
Archias himself had sent her here, after young Philotas, who was nowapparently wooing her with better success than other suitors, hadspoken of the enormous booty which one of his friends had brought from ashooting expedition at Tennis, and Daphne had expressed a wish to emptyher quiver there too.
True, Philotas himself had been eager to guide the hunting party, butDaphne declined his escort because--so the maid asserted--she cared farmore about meeting her cousins, the sculptors, than for the chase. Hermistress had frankly told her so, but her father was delighted to hearher express a wish, because for several months she had been so quiet andlistless that she, Stephanion, had become anxious about her. Meanwhile,Daphne had tried honestly to conceal her feelings from the old man,but such games of hide and seek were useless against the master's keenpenetration. He spared no pains in the preparations for the journey,and the girl now seemed already transformed. This was caused solely bymeeting her cousins again; but if any one should ask her whether Daphnepreferred Myrtilus or Hermon, she could not give a positive answer.
"Cautious inquiry saves recantation," replied Bias importantly. "Yet youmay believe my experience, it is Myrtilus. Fame inspires love, and whatthe world will not grant my master, in spite of his great talent, itconceded to the other long ago. And, besides, we are not starving; butMyrtilus is as rich as King Croesus of Sardis. Not that Daphne, who isstifling in gold herself, would care about that, but whoever knows lifeknows--where doves are, doves will fly."
Stephanion, however, was of a different opinion, not only because Daphnetalked far more about the black-bearded cousin than the fair one, butbecause she knew the girl, and was seldom mistaken in such matters.She would not deny that Daphne was also fond of Myrtilus. Yet probablyneither of the artists, but Philotas, would lead home the bride, for hewas related to the royal family--a fine, handsome man; and, besides,her father preferred him to the other suitors who hovered around her asflies buzzed about honey. Of course, matters would be more favourableto Philotas in any other household. Who else in Alexandria would consultthe daughter long, when he was choosing her future husband? But Archiaswas a white raven among fathers, and would never force his only child todo anything.
Marrying and loving, however, were two different affairs. If Eros hadthe final decision, her choice might perhaps fall on one of the artists.
Here she was interrupted by the slave's indignant exclamation: "Whatcontradictions! 'Woman's hair is long, but her wit is short,' says theproverb. 'Waiting is the merchant's wisdom,' I have heard your mastersay more than once, and to obey the words of shrewd people is the bestplan for those who are not so wise. Meanwhile, I am of the opinion thatcuriosity alone brought Daphne--who, after all, is only a woman--to thisplace. She wants to see the statues of Demeter which her father orderedfrom us."
"And the Arachne?" asked the maid. This was an opportune question to theslave--how often he had heard the artists utter the word "Arachne!"--andhis pride of education had suffered from the consciousness that he knewnothing about her except the name, which in Greek meant "the spider."
Some special story must surely be associated with this Arachne, forwhich his master desired to use his young countrywoman, Ledscha, asa model, and whose statues Archias intended to place in his house inAlexandria and in the great weaving establishment at Tennis beside thestatue of Demeter.
Stephanion, a Greek woman who grew up in a Macedonian household, mustknow something about her.
So he cautiously turned the conversation to the spinner Arachne, andwhen Stephanion entered into it, admitted that he, too, was curious tolearn in what way the sculptors would represent her.
"Yes," replied the maid, "my mistress has more than once racked herbrains over that, and Archias too. Perhaps they will carve her as a girlat work in the house of her father Idmon, the purple dyer of Colophon."
"Never," replied Bias in a tone of dissent. "Just imagine how the loomwould look wrought in gold and ivory!"
"I thought so too," said Stephanion, in apology for the foolish idea."Daphne thinks that the two will model her in different ways: Myrtilus,as mistress in the weaving room, showing with proud delight a piece justcompleted to the nymphs from the Pactolus and other rivers, who soughther at Colophon to admire her work; but Hermon, after she aroused thewrath of Athene because she dared to weave into the hangings the loveadventures of the gods with mortal women."
"Father Zeus as a swan toying with Leda," replied Bias as confidentlyas if Arachne's works were before his eyes, "and in the form of abull bearing away Europa, the chaste Artemis bending over the sleepingEndymion."
"How that pleases you men!" interrupted the maid, striking him lightlyon the arm with the duster which she had brought from the tent. "Butought the virgin Athene to be blamed because she punished the weaverwho, with all her skill, was only a mortal woman, for thus exposing herdivine kindred?"
"Certainly not," replied Bias, and Stephanion went on eagerly: "Andwhen the great Athene, who invented weaving and protects weavers,condescended to compete with Arachne, and was excelled by her, surelyher gall must have overflowed. Whoever is just will scarcely blameher for striking the audacious conqueror on the brow with the weaver'sshuttle."
"It is that very thing," replied Bias modestly, "which to ashort-sighted fool like myself--may the great goddess not bear me agrudge for it!--never seemed just in her. Even the mortal who succumbsin a fair fight ought not to be enraged against the victor. At least, soI was taught. But what, I ask myself, when I think of the stones whichwere flung at Hermon's struggling Maenads, could be less suited forimitation than two women, one of whom strikes the other?"
"The woman who in her desperation at that blow desires to hang herself,must produce a still more horrible impression," replied Stephanion."Probably she will be represented as Athene releases her from the nooserather than when, as a punishment for her insolence, she transformsArachne into a spider."
"That she might be permitted, in the form of an insect, to make artisticwebs until the end of her life," the slave, now sufficiently wellinformed, added importantly. "Since that transformation, as you know,the spider has been called by the Greeks Arachne. Perhaps--I alwaysthought so--Hermon will represent her twisting the rope with which sheis to kill herself. You have seen many of our works, and know that welove the terrible."
"Oh, let me go into your s
tudio!" the maid now entreated no lessurgently than her mistress had done a short time before, but her wish,too, remained ungratified.
"The sculptors," Bias truthfully asserted, "always kept their workroomscarefully locked." They were as inaccessible as the strongest fortress,and it was wise, less on account of curious spectators, from whom therewas nothing to fear, than of the thievish propensities of thepeople. The statues, by Archias's orders, were to be executed inchryselephantine work, and the gold and ivory which this required mightonly too easily awaken the vice of cupidity in the honest and frugalBiamites. So nothing could be done about it, not to mention the factthat he was forbidden, on pain of being sold to work in a stone quarry,to open the studio to any one without his master's consent.
So the maid, too, was obliged to submit, and the sacrifice was renderedeasier for her because, just at that moment, a young female slave calledher back to the tent where Chrysilla, Daphne's companion, a matron whobelonged to a distinguished Greek family, needed her services.
Bias, rejoicing that he had at last learned, without exposing his ownignorance, the story of the much-discussed Arachne, returned to thehouse, where he remained until Daphne came back from shooting withher companions. While the latter were talking about the birds they hadkilled, Bias went out of doors; but he was forced to give up his desireto listen to a conversation which was exactly suited to arrest hisattention, for after the first few sentences he perceived behind thethorny acacias in the "garden" his countrywoman Ledscha.
So she was keeping her promise. He recognised her plainly, in spite ofthe veil which covered the back of her head and the lower portion of herface. Her black eyes were visible, and what a sinister light shone inthem as she fixed them sometimes on Daphne, sometimes on Hermon, whostood talking together by the steps!
The evening before Bias had caught a glimpse of this passionatecreature's agitated soul. If anything happened here that incensed orwounded her she would be capable of committing some unprecedented actbefore the very master's honoured guest.
To prevent this was a duty to the master whom he loved, and against whomhe had only warned Ledscha because he was reluctant to see a free maidenof his own race placed on a level with the venal Alexandrian models,but still more because any serious love affair between Hermon and theBiamite might bring disastrous consequences upon both, and thereforealso on himself. He knew that the free men of his little nation wouldnot suffer an insult offered by a Greek to a virgin daughter of theirlineage to pass unavenged.
True, in his bondage he had by no means remained free from all the badqualities of slaves, but he was faithfully devoted to his master, whohad imposed upon him a great debt of gratitude; for though, during thetrying period of variance with his rich and generous uncle, Hermon hadoften been offered so large a sum for him that it would have relievedthe artist from want, he could not be induced to yield his "wise andfaithful Bias" to another. The slave had sworn to himself that he wouldnever forget this, and he kept his oath.
Freedmen and slaves were moving to and fro in the large open squarebefore him, amid the barking of the dogs and the shouts of the male andfemale venders of fruit, vegetables, and fish, who hoped to dispose oftheir wares in the kitchen tent of the wealthy strangers.
The single veiled woman attracted no attention here, but Bias kept hisgaze fixed steadily upon her, and as she curved her little slender handabove her brow to shade her watchful eyes from the dazzling sunlight,and set her beautifully arched foot on a stone near one of the trees inorder to gain a better view, he thought of the story of the weaver whichhe had just heard.
Though the stillness of the hot noontide was interrupted by many sounds,it exerted a bewitching influence over him.
Ledscha seemed like the embodiment of some great danger, and when shelowered one arm and raised the other to protect herself again from theradiance of the noonday sun, he started; for through the brain of theusually fearless man darted the thought that now the nimble spider-legswere moving to draw him toward her, entwine him, and suck his heart'sblood.
The illusion lasted only a few brief moments, but when it vanished andthe girl had regained the figure of an unusually slender, veiled Biamitewoman, he shook his head with a sigh of relief, for never had such avision appeared to him in broad noonday and while awake, and it musthave been sent to warn him and his master against this uncanny maiden.
It positively announced some approaching misfortune which proceeded fromthis beautiful creature.
The Biamite now advanced hesitatingly toward Hermon and Daphne, who werestill a considerable distance from her. But Bias had also quitted hispost of observation, and after she had taken a few steps forward, barredher way.
With a curt "Come," he took her hand, whispering, "Hermon is joyouslyexpecting your visit."
Ledscha's veil concealed her mouth, but the expression of her eyes madehim think that it curled scornfully.
Yet she silently followed him.
At first he led her by the hand, but on the way he saw at the edge ofher upper veil the thick, dark eyebrows which met each other, and herfingers seemed to him so strangely cold and tapering that a shudder ranthrough his frame and he released them.
Ledscha scarcely seemed to notice it, and, with bowed head, walkedbeside him through the side entrance to the door of Hermon's studio.
It was a disappointment to her to find it locked, but Bias did notheed her angry complaint, and led her into the artist's sitting room,requesting her to wait for his master there.
Then he hurried to the steps, and by a significant sign informed thesculptor that something important required his attention.
Hermon understood him, and Bias soon had an opportunity to tell theartist who it was that desired to speak to him and where he had takenLedscha. He also made him aware that he feared some evil from her,and that, in an alarming vision, she had appeared to him as a hideousspider.
Hermon laughed softly. "As a spider? The omen is appropriate. We willmake her a woman spider--an Arachne that is worth looking at. But thisstrange beauty is one of the most obstinate of her sex, and if I let hercarry out her bold visit in broad daylight she will get the better ofme completely. The blood must first be washed from my hands here. Thewounded sea eagle tore the skin with its claw, and I concealed thescratch from Daphne. A strip of linen to bandage it! Meanwhile, letthe impatient intruder learn that her sign is not enough to open everydoor."
Then he entered his sitting room, greeted Ledscha curtly, invited her togo into the studio, unlocked it, and left her there alone while hewent to his chamber with the slave and had the slight wound bandagedcomfortably.
While Bias was helping his master he repeated with sincere anxiety hiswarning against the dangerous beauty whose eyebrows, which had growntogether, proved that she was possessed by the demons of the netherworld.
"Yet they increase the austere beauty of her face," assented the artist."I should not want to omit them in modelling Arachne while the goddessis transforming her into a spider! What a subject! A bolder one wasscarcely ever attempted and, like you, I already see before me thecoming spider."
Then, without the slightest haste, he exchanged the huntsman's chitonfor the white chlamys, which was extremely becoming to his long, wavingbeard, and at last, exclaiming gaily, "If I stay any longer, she willtransform herself into empty air instead of the spider," he went to her.