head. His
arms, thin but strong, with the skin stretched by the tension of veins
and tendons, were stained to the elbow by the red potter's clay.

Actaeon, as he contemplated the short, correct profile of the handsome
youth, and the nervous vivacity of his body, was reminded of the
apprentices to the sculptors at Athens, artistic youths who in the broad
glare of day, before returning to the studios, scandalized the
well-behaved citizens by their frolics in the promenade of the
Cerameicus.

"This is Erotion," said Rhanto, who smiled sweetly as she saw her
friend. "Although born in Saguntum, he is a Greek like yourself,
stranger."

The youth did not glance at the girl; he stood looking at the stranger
respectfully.

"Are you from Athens, really?" he said with admiration. "You cannot deny
it. You look like Ulysses when he was wandering about the world, passing
through the adventures related by Father Homer. I have seen just such as
you on vases and in reliefs, resembling in figure and dress the husband
of Penelope. Greeting, son of Pallas!"

"And you--are you also one of Sonnica's slaves?"

"No," the boy hastily answered with pride. "Rhanto is a slave, but
perhaps some day she will not be. I am free; my father is Mopsus, a
Greek from Rhodes, and the chief archer of Saguntum. He came from there
with no other fortune than his bow and arrows, and now he is rich, since
his recent expedition against the Turdetani, and he figures as the first
in the militia of the city. I work in the pottery for Sonnica, who is
very fond of me. She it was who gave me the name of Erotion, because
when I was little I looked like a cupid. I am not one of those who
mould clay, nor turn the wheel to shape the vases. They call me the
artist; I make decorations of foliage, I model animals, I can make the
head of Diana from memory, and no one can engrave in clay the great seal
of Saguntum as I can. Do you know what it is like? A ship without sails,
with three banks of oars; above it flies Victory in long draperies,
depositing a crown on the prow. I could, if you wish, model your
figure----"

But he stopped, as if ashamed at these last words, and added sadly:

"How you must be laughing at me, stranger! You come from _there_, from
that marvelous country of which my father so often talks. You must have
seen the Parthenon and Athene Promachos which navigators distinguish far
out at sea long before they can descry Athens; the wonderful procession