r work, they probably will not be reluctant to go
with Daphne."

He stepped into the boat as he spoke, but Ledscha again detained him,
asking impatiently: "And 'the work,' as you call it? It was covered with
a cloth when I visited the studio, but Hermon himself termed it the
statue of a goddess. Yet what it represents--Does it look like my sister
Taus--enough like her, I mean, to be recognised?"

A half-compassionate, half-mocking smile flitted over the Biamite's
copper-coloured visage, and in a tone of patronizing instruction assumed
by the better informed, he began: "You are thinking of the face? Why no,
child! What that requires can be found in the countenance of no Biamite,
hardly even in yours, the fairest of all."

"And the goddess's figure?" asked Ledscha eagerly.

"For that he first used as a model the fair-haired Heliodora, whom he
summoned from Alexandria, and as the wild cat could endure the loneliness
only a fortnight, the sisters Nico and Pagis came together. But Tennis
was too quiet for them too. The rabble can only be contented among those
of their own sort in the capital. But the great preliminary work was
already finished before we left Alexandria."

"And Gula--my sister?"

"They were not used for the Demeter," said the slave, smiling. "Just
think, that slender scarcely grown creature, Taus, and the matronly
patroness of marriage. And Gula? True, her little round face is fresh and
not ill-looking--but the model of a goddess requires something more. That
can only be obtained in Alexandria. What do not the women there do for
the care of the body! They learn it in the Aphrodision, as the boys study
reading and writing. But you! What do you here know even about colouring
the eyelids and the lips, curling the hair, and treating the nails on the
hands and feet? And the clothes! You let them hang just as you put them
on, and my master's work is full of folds and little lines in the robe
and the peplos--But I have staid too long already. Do you really insist
upon meeting Hermon again?

"I will and must see him," she eagerly declared.

"Well, then," he answered harshly. "But if you cast my warning to the
winds, pity will also fly away with it."

"I do not need it," the girl retorted in a contemptuous tone.

"Then let Fate take its course," said the slave, shrugging his shoulders
regretfully. "My master shall learn what you wish. I shall remain at home
until the market is empty. There are plenty of ser