where Myrtilus would need his
assistance.

"It is impossible in such weather," was the reply.

"Then I will ride!" cried Hermon resolutely, and Philippus scanned the
son of his old friend and companion in arms with an expression of quiet
satisfaction in his eyes, still sparkling brightly, and answered quickly,
"You shall have two horses, my boy, and a guide who knows the road
besides."

Then, turning swiftly to one of the officers who accompanied him, he
ordered him to provide what was necessary.

When, soon after, in the impluvium, the tempest tore the velarium that
covered the open space from its rings, and the ladies endeavoured to
detain Hermon, Philippus silenced them with the remark:

"A disagreeable ride is before him, but what urges him on is pleasing to
the gods. I have just ventured to send out a carrier dove," he added,
turning to the artist, "to inform Myrtilus that he may expect you before
sunset. The storm comes from the cast, otherwise it would hardly reach
the goal. Put even if it should be lost, what does it matter?"

Thyone nodded to her old husband with a look of pleasure, and her eyes
shone through tears at Hermon as she clasped his hand and, remembering
her friend, his mother, exclaimed: "Go, then, you true son of your
father, and tell your friend that we will offer sacrifices for his
welfare."

"A lean chicken to Aesculapius," whispered the grammateus to Althea. "She
holds on to the oboli."

"Which, at any rate, would be hard enough to dispose of in this wretched
place unless one were a dealer in weapons or a thirsty sailor," sighed
the Thracian. "As soon as the sky and sea are blue again, chains could
not keep me here. And the cooing around this insipid rich beauty into the
bargain!"

This remark referred to Philotas, who was just offering Daphne a
magnificent bunch of roses, which a mounted messenger had brought to him
from Alexandria.

The girl received it with a grateful glance, but she instantly separated
one of the most beautiful blossoms from its companions and handed it to
Hermon, saying, "For our suffering friend, with my affectionate
remembrances."

The artist pressed her dear hand with a tender look of love, intended to
express how difficult it was for him to leave her, and when, just at that
moment, a slave announced that the horses were waiting, Thyone whispered:
"Have no anxiety, my son! Your ride away from her through the tempest
will bring you a better reward than his