took
possession of Hermon.

Since for so many months he had firmly believed his friend's work to be
his own, he might also have fallen into another delusion, and Myrtilus
might still dwell among the living.

At this thought the blind man, with a swift movement, sat erect upon his
couch; it seemed as if a bright light blazed before his eyes in the dark
room.

The reasons which had led the authorities to pronounce Myrtilus dead
rendered his early end probable, it is true, yet by no means proved it
absolutely. He must hold fast to that.

He who, ever since he returned to Alexandria from Tennis, had squandered
precious time as if possessed by evil demons, would now make a better
use of it. Besides, he longed to leave the capital. What! Suppose he
should now, even though it were necessary to delay obeying the oracle's
command, search, traverse, sail through the world in pursuit of
Myrtilus, even, if it must be, to the uttermost Thule?

But he fell back upon the couch as quickly as he had started up.

"Blind! blind!" he groaned in dull despair. How could he, who was
not able even to see his hand before his eyes, succeed in finding his
friend?

And yet, yet----

Had his mind been darkened with his eyes, that this thought came to him
now for the first time, that he had not sent messengers to all quarters
of the globe to find some trace of the assailants and, with them, of the
lost man?

Perhaps it was Ledscha who had him in her power, and, while he
was pondering and forming plans for the best way of conducting
investigations, the dimmed image of the Biamite again returned
distinctly to his mind, and with it that of Arachne and the spider, into
which the goddess transformed the weaver.

Half overcome by sleep, he saw himself, staff in hand, led by Daphne,
cross green meadows and deserts, valleys and mountains, to seek his
friend; yet whenever he fancied he caught sight of him, and Ledscha with
him, in the distance, the spider descended from above and, with magical
speed, wove a net which concealed both from his gaze.

Groaning and deeply disturbed, half awake, he struggled onward, always
toward one goal, to find his Myrtilus again, when suddenly the sound of
the knocker on the entrance door and the barking of Lycas, his Arabian
greyhound, shook the house.

Recalled to waking life, he started up and listened.

Had the men who were to arrest him or inquisitive visitors not allowed
themselves to be deterred even