plied the weaver's
shuttle."

"And her name?"

"Arachne."

The young girl started, exclaiming contemptuously: "Arachne? That
is--that is what you Greeks call the most repulsive of creatures--the
spider."

"The most skilful of all creatures, that taught man the noble art of
weaving," he eagerly retorted.

Here he was interrupted; his friend Myrtilus put his fair head into the
room, exclaiming: "Pardon me if I interrupt you--but we shall not see
each other again for some time. I have important business in the city,
and may be detained a long while. Yet before I go I must perform the
commission Daphne gave me for you. She sends word that she shall expect
you without fail at the banquet for the Pelusinian guests. Your absence,
do you hear?--pardon the interruption, fairest Ledscha--your absence
would seriously anger her."

"Then I shall be prepared for considerable trouble in appeasing her,"
replied Hermon, glancing significantly at the young girl.

Myrtilus crossed the threshold, turned to the Biamite, and said in his
quiet, cheerful manner: "Where beautiful gifts are to be brought to
Eros, it beseems the friend to strew with flowers the path of the one
who is offering the sacrifices; and you, if everything does not deceive
me, would fain choose to-night to serve him with the utmost devotion.
Therefore, I shall need forgiveness from you and the god, if I beseech
you to defer the offering, were it only until to-morrow."

Ledscha silently shrugged her shoulders and made no answer to the
inquiring glance with which Hermon sought hers, but Myrtilus changed his
tone and addressed a grave warning to his friend to consider well that
it would be an insult to the manes of his dead parents if he should
avoid the old couple from Pelusium, who had been their best friends and
had taken the journey hither for his sake.

Hermon looked after him in painful perplexity, but the Biamite also
approached the threshold, and holding her head haughtily erect, said
coldly: "The choice is difficult for you, as I see. Then recall to your
memory again what this night of the full moon means--you are well
aware of it--to me. If, nevertheless, you still decide in favour of the
banquet with your friends, I can not help it; but I must now know: Shall
this night belong to me, or to the daughter of Archias?"

"Is it impossible to talk with you, unlucky girl, as one would with
other sensible people?" Hermon burst forth wrathfully. "Everything is