ead, would turn with
reckless haste from the hapless man who had led them into such a shameful
error.

Yet what mattered it, even if these miserable people considered
themselves deceived and pointed the finger of scorn at him? Better people
would thereby be robbed of the right to accuse him of faithlessness to
himself. This thought darted through his heated brain like a flash of
lightning, and when, in spite of his silence, the conversation was
continued and Althea told the others that only Hermon's blindness had
prevented the creation of a work which could have been confidently
expected far to surpass the Demeter, since it seemed to have been exactly
suited to his special talent, he answered his beautiful companion's
remark curtly and absently.

She perceived this with annoyance and perplexity.

A woman who yearns for the regard of all men, and makes love a toy,
easily lessens the demands she imposes upon individuals. Only, even
though love has wholly disappeared, she still claims consideration, and
Althea did not wish to lose Hermon's regard.

When Amyntas, the head of the conspirators, attracted the attention of
the company by malicious remarks about the King's sister, the Thracian
laid her hand on the blind artist's arm, whispering: "Has the image of
the Arachne which, at Tennis, charmed you even in the presence of the
angry Zeus, completely vanished from your memory? How indifferent you
look! But I tell you"--her deep blue eyes flashed as she spoke--"that so
long as you were still a genuine creating artist the case was different.
Even while putting the last touches of the file to the Demeter, for which
Archias's devout daughter posed as your model, another whom you could not
banish from your mind filled your imagination. Though so loud a denial is
written on your face, I persist in my conviction, and that no idle
delusion ensnares me I can prove!"

Hermon raised his sightless eyes to her inquiringly, but she went on with
eager positiveness: "Or, if you did not think of the weaver while carving
the goddess, how did you happen to engrave a spider on the ribbon twined
around the ears of grain in Demeter's hand? Not the smallest detail of a
work produced by the hand of a valued friend escapes my notice, and I
perceived it before the Demeter came to the temple and the lofty
pedestal. Now I would scarcely be able to discover it in the dusky cella,
yet at that time I took pleasure in the sight of the ugly insect, not