ather never came here."

"Robert the Good never came here in your life-time, child," Theron
answered, "for his heart was sad within him at the thought of all the
hope and joy that had gone to the building of this temple and all the
disappointment that came after. But his son comes in ostentation. Since
his accession, he has visited in turn every church in his kingdom, and
given to every altar some glorious gift, that Heaven, so he boasts,
impiously, may be in debt to him. He comes to-day to this, the least and
last."

Perpetua crossed herself as her father spoke of the King's impious
boast.

"Then I shall see the King?" she said.

Theron shook his head.

"No, Perpetua, you will not see the King. You and I will keep close
in-doors to-day, talking of the old gods and the old heroes, till the
King has come and gone, and then we will try to forget that there is
such a king in Sicily."

Perpetua sat silently for a few moments, with her hands clasped across
her knees, gazing with wide eyes at the golden air, quivering with heat.
Then she turned to Theron.

"Father," she said, "if the world be not all peace and sweetness, are
we wise to shut our eyes to the worse part of God's handiwork? Are we
wise to hide from life, like a lizard in a cranny of a wall? You say the
Golden Age is dead and gone. Can we bring it back by make-believe? Can
we hold the summer back by saying it is still summer while the snow is
on the ground?"

Theron turned and looked at her thoughtful face with some wonder. Never
before had it happened that she had questioned his judgment. They had
been happy together in their mountain nest; he had shut out the world
for so long; he hated to think that he could not shut it out forever.
And now some knowledge had come to the so jealously guarded girl,
creeping into the unreal world he had created for her, and the thought
of it vexed him. But there was no vexation in his voice as he answered
her, smiling.

"You talk as glibly as the Seven Sages, little eagle, but I will not
argue with you. We must make the best of a bad world, and the best way
is to shut it out."

Perpetua leaned forward and kissed him. "Dear father," she said, with
infinite reverence and affection in her voice. From far below there
came to her ears a sound of distant music. She read in Theron's face
that he heard it, too, and, hearing, he shuddered.

"Hark!" he said. "Do you hear that music?"

He rose and moved to the brow of the h