become hers, with whom could he have sought
in hours like these soothing, kind, and sensible counsel, comfort that
calmed the heart, and the refreshing dew which his fading courage and
faltering creative power required?

The bare thought of touching clay and wax with his fingers, or taking
hammer, chisel, and file in his hands, was now repulsive; and when, just
outside of the tent, a Biamite woman who was bringing fish to the cook
reminded him of Ledscha, and that he had lost in her the right model for
his Arachne, he scarcely regretted it.

CHAPTER XIV.

Outside the door of the tent Hermon was trying to banish Althea's image
from his mind. How foolishly he had overestimated last night the
value of this miserable actress, who as a woman had lost all charm for
him--even as a model for his Arachne!

He would rather have appeared before his pure friend with unsightly
stains on his robe than while mastered by yearning for the Thracian.

The first glance at Daphne's beloved face, the first words of her
greeting, taught him that he should find with her everything for which
he longed.

In simple, truthful words she reproached him for having neglected her
to the verge of incivility the evening before, but there was no trace of
bitterness or resentment in the accusation, and she gave Hermon little
time for apology, but quickly gladdened him with words of forgiveness.

In the opinion of her companion Chrysilla, Daphne ought to have kept
the capricious artist waiting much longer for pardon. True, the cautious
woman took no part in the conversation afterward, but she kept her
charge in sight while she was skilfully knotting the fringe into a cloth
which she had woven herself. On account of her favourite Philotas, it
was well for Daphne to be aware that she was watched.

Chrysilla was acquainted with life, and knew that Eros never mingles
more arbitrarily in the intercourse of a young couple than when, after a
long separation, there is anything whatever to forgive.

Besides, many words which the two exchanged escaped her hearing, for
they talked in low tones, and it was hot in the tent. Often the fatigue
she felt after the sleepless night bowed her head, still comely with its
unwrinkled face, though she was no longer young; then she quickly raised
it again.

Neither Daphne nor Hermon noticed her. The former at once perceived that
something was weighing on the sculptor's mind, but he did not need any
long inquiry.