am closely associated--"

Here she was interrupted by Chrysippus, who asked if Althea had told her
neighbour about his Rhodian eye-salve.

He winked at her and made a significant gesture as he spoke, and then
informed the blind artist how graciously Arsinoe had remembered him when
she heard of the remedy by whose aid many a wonderful cure of blind eyes
had been made in Rhodes. The royal lady had inquired about him and his
sufferings with almost sisterly interest, and Althea eagerly confirmed
the statement.

Hermon listened to the pair in silence.

He had not been able to see them, it is true, yet he had perceived their
design as if the loss of sight had sharpened his mental vision. He
imagined that he could see the favourite and Althea nudge each other with
sneering gestures, and believed that their sole purpose was to render
him--he knew not for what object--the obedient tool of the Queen, who had
probably also succeeded in persuading his usually cautious uncle to
render her great services.

The remembrance of Arsinoe's undignified conduct at the Dionysia, and the
shameful stories of her which he had heard returned to his mind. At the
same time he saw Daphne rise before him in her aristocratic dignity and
kindly goodness, and a smile of satisfaction hovered around his lips as
he said to himself: "The spider Althea again! But, in spite of my
blindness, I will be caught neither in her net nor in the Queen's. They
are the last to bar the way which leads to Daphne and real happiness."

The Rhodian was just beginning to praise Arsinoe also as a special friend
and connoisseur of the sculptor's art when Crates, Hermon's
fellow-student, asked the blind artist, in behalf of his beautiful
companion, why his Demeter was placed upon a pedestal which, to others as
well as himself, seemed too high for the size of the statue.

Hermon replied that he had heard several make this criticism, but the
priests of the goddess refused to take it into account.

Here he hesitated, for, like a blow from an invisible hand, the thought
darted through his mind that perhaps, on the morrow, he would see himself
compelled before the whole world to cast aside the crown of fame which he
owed to the statue on the lofty pedestal. He did not have even the
remotest idea of continuing to deck himself with false renown if his
dread was realized; yet he doubtless imagined how this whole aristocratic
circle, with the Queen, Althea, and Proclus at its h