The amphitheatre was soon emptied, amid the flare of lightning and the
crash and roll of thunder. Caracalla, thinking only of the happy omen of
Tarautas's wonderful escape, called out to Melissa, with affectionate
anxiety, to fly to shelter as quickly as possible; a chariot was in
waiting to convey her to the Serapeum. On this she humbly represented
that she would rather be permitted to return under her brother's escort
to her father's house, and Caracalla cheerfully acceded. He had business
on hand this night, which made it seem desirable to him that she should
not be too near him. He should expect her brother presently at the
Serapeum.
With his own hand he wrapped her in the caracalla and hood which old
Adventus was about to put on his master's shoulders, remarking, as he did
so, that he had weathered worse storms in the field.
Melissa thanked him with a blush, and, going close up to her, he
whispered: "To-morrow, if Fate grants us gracious answers to the
questions I shall put to her presently after this storm--tomorrow the
horn of happiness will be filled to overflowing for you and me. The
thrifty goddess promises to be lavish to me through you."
Slaves were standing round with lighted lanterns; for the torches in the
theatre were all extinguished, and the darkened auditorium lay like an
extinct crater, in which a crowd of indistinguishable figures were moving
to and fro. It reminded him of Hades and a troop of descending spirits;
but he would not allow anything but what was pleasant to occupy his mind
or eye. By a sudden impulse he took a lantern from one of the
attendants, held it up above Melissa's head, and gazed long and earnestly
into her brightly illuminated face. Then he dropped his hand with a sigh
and said, as though speaking in a dream: "Yes, this is life! Now I begin
to live."
He lifted the dripping laurel crown from his head, tossed it into the
arena, and added to Melissa: "Now, get under shelter at once, sweetheart.
I have been able to see you this whole evening, even when the lamps were
out; for lightning gives light. Thus even the storm has brought me joy.
Sleep well. I shall expect you early, as soon as I have bathed."
Melissa wished him sound slumbers, and he replied, lightly:
"If only all life were a dream, and if to-morrow I might but wake up, no
longer the son of Severus, but Alexander; and you, not Melissa, but
Roxana, whom you so strongly resemble! To be sure I might find myself
the gladiator Tarautas. But, then, who would you be? And your stalwart
father, who stands there defying the rain, certainly does not look like a
vision, and this storm is not favorable to philosophizing."
He kissed his hand to her, had a dry caracalla thrown over his shoulders,
ordered Theocritus to take care of Tarautas and carry him a purse of gold
--which he handed to the favorite--and then, pulling the hood over his
head, led the way, followed by his impatient courtiers; but not till he
had answered Heron, who had come forward to ask him what he thought of
the mechanical arts of the Alexandrians, desiring him to postpone that
matter till the morrow.
The storm had silenced the music. Only a few stanch trumpeters had
remained in their places; and when they saw by the lanterns that Caesar
had left the Circus, they sounded a fanfare after him, which followed the
ruler of the world with a dull, hoarse echo.
Outside, the streets were still crowded with people pouring out of the
amphitheatre. Those of the commoner sort sought shelter under the
archways of the building, or else hurried boldly home through the rain.
Heron stood waiting at the entrance for his daughter, though the purple-
hemmed toga was wet, through and through. But she had, in fact, hurried
out while he was pushing forward to speak to Caesar, and in his
excitement overlooked everything else. The behavior of his fellow-
citizens had annoyed him, and he had an obscure impression that it would
be a blunder to claim Caesar's approval of anything they had done; still,
he had not self-control enough to suppress the question which had
fluttered on his lips all through the performance. At last, in high
dudgeon at the inconsiderateness of young people and at the rebuff he had
met with--with the prospect, too, of a cold for his pains--he made his
way homeward on foot.
To Caracalla the bad weather was for once really an advantage, for it put
a stop to the unpleasant demonstrations which the "Green" party had
prepared for him on his way home.
Alexander soon found the closed carruca intended for Melissa, and placed
her in it as soon as he had helped Euryale into her harmamaxa. He was
astonished to find a man inside it, waiting for his sister. This was
Diodoros, who, while Alexander was giving his directions to the
charioteer, had, under cover of the darkness, sprung into the vehicle
from the opposite side. An exclamation of surprise was followed by
explanations and excuses, and the three young people, each with a heart
full almost to bursting, drove off toward Heron's house. Their
conveyance was already rolling over the pavement, while most of the
magnates of the town were still waiting for their slaves to find their
chariots or litters.
For the lovers this was a very different scene from the terrible one they
had just witnessed in the Circus, for, in spite of the narrow space and
total darkness in which they sat, and the rain rattling and splashing on
the dripping black leather hood which sheltered them, in their hearts
they did not lack for sunshine. Caracalla's saying that the lightning,
too, was light, proved true more than once in the course of their drive,
for the vivid flashes which still followed in quick succession enabled
the reunited lovers to exchange many confidences with their eyes, for
which it would have been hard to find words. When both parties to a
quarrel are conscious of blame, it is more quickly made up than when one
only needs forgiveness; and the pair in the carruca were so fully
prepared to think the best of each other that there was no need for
Alexander's good offices to make them ready and willing to renew their
broken pledges. Besides, each had cause to fear for the other; for
Diodoros was afraid that the lady Euryale's power was not far-reaching
enough to conceal Melissa from Caesar's spies, and Melissa trembled at
the thought that the physician might too soon betray to Caesar that she
had been betrothed before he had ever seen her, and to whom; for, in that
case, Diodoros would be the object of relentless pursuit. So she urged
on her lover to embark, if possible, this very night.
Hitherto Alexander had taken no part in the conversation.
He could not forget the reception he had met with outside the
amphitheatre. Euryale's presence had saved his sister from evil
imputations, but had not helped him; and even his gay spirits could
make no head against the consciousness of being regarded by his fellow-
citizens as a hired traitor. He had withdrawn to one of the back seats
to see the performance; for as soon as the theatre was suddenly lighted
up, he had become the object of dark looks and threatening gestures.
For the first time in his life he had felt compassion for the criminals
torn by wild beasts, and for the wounded gladiators, whose companion in
misfortune he vaguely felt himself to be. But, what was worst of all,
he could not regard himself as altogether free from the reproach of
having accepted a reward for the service he had so thoughtlessly
rendered.
Nor did he see the remotest possibility of ever making those whose
opinion he cared for understand how it had come to pass that he should
have acceded to the desire of the villain in the purple, now that his
father, by showing himself to the people in the 'toga pretexta', had set
the seal to their basest suspicions. The thought that henceforth he
could never hope to feel the grasp of an honest man's hand gnawed at his
heart.
The esteem of Diodoros was dear to him, and, when his young comrade spoke
to him, he felt at first as though he were doing him an unexpected honor;
but then he fell back into the suspicion that this was only for his
sister's sake.
The deep sigh that broke from him induced Melissa to speak a few
words of comfort, and now the unhappy man's bursting heart overflowed.
In eloquent words he described to Diodoros and Melissa all he had felt,
and the terrible consequences of his heedless folly, and as he spoke
acute regret filled his eyes with tears.
He had pronounced judgment on himself, and expected nothing of his friend
but a little pity. But in the darkness Diodoros sought and found his
hand, and grasped it fervently; and if Alexander could but have seen his
old playfellow's face, he would have perceived that his eyes glistened as
he said what he could to encourage him to hope for better days.
Diodoros knew his friend well. He was incapable of falsehood; and his
deed, which under a false light so easily assumed an aspect of villainy,
had, in fact, been no more than an act of thoughtlessness such as he had
himself often lent a hand in. Alexander, however, seemed determined not
to hear the comfort offered him by his sister and his friend. A flash of
lightning revealed him to them, sitting with a bent head and his hands
over his brow; and this gloomy vision of one who so lately had been the
gayest of the gay troubled their revived happiness even more than the
thought of the danger which, as each knew, threatened the others.
As they passed the Temple of Artemis, which was brightly illuminated,
reminding them that they were reaching their destination, Alexander at
last looked up and begged the lovers to consider their immediate affairs.
His mind had remained clear, and what he said showed that he had not lost
sight of his sister's future.
As soon as Melissa should have effected her escape, Caesar would
undoubtedly seize, not only her lover, but his father as well. Diodoros
must forthwith cross the lake and rouse Polybius and Praxilla, to warn
them of the imminent danger, while Alexander undertook to hire a ship for
the party. Argutis would await the fugitives in a tavern by the harbor,
and conduct them on board the vessel which would be in readiness.
Diodoros, who was not yet able to walk far, promised to avail himself of
one of the litters waiting outside the Temple of Artemis.
Just before the vehicle stopped, the lovers took leave. They arranged
where and how they might have news of each other, and all they said, in
brief words and a fervent parting kiss, in this moment, when death or
imprisonment might await them, had the solemn purport of a vow.
The swift horses stopped. Alexander hastily leaned over to his friend,
kissed him on both cheeks, and whispered:
"Take good care of her; think of me kindly if we should never meet again,
and tell the others that wild Alexander has played another fool's trick,
at any rate, not a wicked one, however badly it may turn out for him."
For the sake of the charioteer, who, after Melissa's flight, would be
certainly cross-examined, Diodoros could make no reply. The carruca
rattled off by the way by which it had come; Diodoros vanished in the
darkness, and Melissa clasped her hands over her face. She felt as
though this were her last parting from her lover, and the sun would never
shine on earth again.
It was now near midnight. The slaves had heard the approach of the
chariot, and received them as heartily as ever, but in obedience to
Heron's orders they added the most respectful bows to their usual well-
meant welcome. Since their master had shown himself to Dido, in the
afternoon, with braggart dignity, as a Roman magnate, she had felt as
though the age of miracles had come, and nothing was impossible.
Splendid visions of future grandeur awaiting the whole family, including
herself and Argutis, had not ceased to haunt her; but as to the empress,
something seemed to have gone wrong, for why had the girl wet eyes and so
sad a face? What was all this long whispering with Argutis? But it was
no concern of hers, after all, and she would know all in good time, no
doubt. "What the masters plot to-day the slaves hear next week," was a
favorite saying of the Gauls, and she had often proved its truth.
But the cool way in which Melissa received the felicitations which the
old woman poured out in honor of the future empress, and her tear-
reddened eyes, seemed at any rate quite comprehensible. The child was
thinking, no doubt, of her handsome Diodoros. Among the splendors of the
palace she would soon forget. And how truly magnificent were the dress
and jewels in which the damsel had appeared in the amphitheatre!
"How they must have hailed her!" thought the old woman when she had
helped Melissa to exchange her dress for a simpler robe, and the girl sat
down to write. "If only the mistress had lived to see this day! And all
the other women must have been bursting with envy. Eternal gods! But,
after all, who knows whether the good luck we envy others is great
or small? Why, even in this house, which the gods have filled to the
roof with gifts and favors, misfortune has crept in through the key hole.
Poor Philip!
"Still, if all goes well with the girl. Things have befallen her such as
rarely come to any one, and yet no more than her due. The fairest and
best will be the greatest and wealthiest in the empire."
And she clutched the amulets and the cross which hung round her arm and
throat, and muttered a hasty prayer for her darling.
Argutis, for his part, did not know what to think of it all. He, if any
one, rejoiced in the good fortune of his master and Melissa; but Heron's
promotion to the rank of praetor had been too sudden, and Heron demeaned
himself too strangely in his purple-bordered toga. It was to be hoped
that this new and unexpected honor had not turned his brain! And the
state in which his master's eldest son remained caused him the greatest
anxiety. Instead of rejoicing in the honors of his family, he had at his
first interview with his father flown into a violent rage; and though he,
Argutis, had not understood what they were saying, he perceived that they
were in vehement altercation, and that Heron had turned away in great
wrath. And then--he remembered it with horror, and could hardly tell
what he had seen to Alexander and Melissa in a reasonable and respectful
manner--Philip had sprung out of bed, had dressed himself without help,
even to his shoes, and scarcely had his father set out in his litter
before Philip had come into the kitchen. He looked like one risen from
the grave, and his voice was hollow as he told the slaves that he meant
to go to the Circus to see for himself that justice was done. But
Argutis felt his heart sink within him when the philosopher desired him
to fetch the pipe his father used to teach the birds to whistle, and at
the same time took up the sharp kitchen knife with which Argutis
slaughtered the sheep.
The young man then turned to go, but even on the threshold he had
stumbled over the straps of his sandals which dragged unfastened, and
Argutis had had to lead him, almost to carry him in from the garden, for
a violent fit of coughing had left him quite exhausted. The effort of
pulling at the heavy oars on board the galley had been too much for his
weak chest. Argutis and Dido had carried him to bed, and he had soon
fallen into a deep sleep, from which he had not waked since.
And now what were these two plotting? They were writing; and not on wax
tablets, but with reed pens on papyrus, as though it were a matter of
importance.
All this gave the slave much to think about, and the faithful soul did
not know whether to weep for joy or grief when Alexander told him, with a
gravity which frightened him in this light-hearted youth, that, partly as
the reward of his faithful service and partly to put him in a position to
aid them all in a crisis of peculiar difficulty, he gave him his freedom.
His father had long since intended to do this, and the deed was already
drawn out. Here was the document; and he knew that, even as a freedman,
Argutis would continue to serve them as faithfully as ever. With this he
gave the slave his manumission, which he was in any case to have received
within a month, at the end of thirty years' service, and Argutis took it
with tears of joy, not unmixed with grief and anxiety, while only a few
hours since it would have been enough to make him the happiest of
mortals.
While he kissed their hands and stammered out words of gratitude, his
uncultured but upright spirit told him that he had been blind ever to
have rejoiced for a moment at the news that Melissa had been chosen to be
empress. All that he had seen during the last half-hour had convinced
him, as surely as if he had been told it in words, that his beloved young
mistress scorned her imperial suitor, and firmly intended to evade him
--how, Argutis could not guess. And, recognizing this, a spirit of
adventure and daring stirred him also. This was a struggle of the weak
against the strong; and to him, who had spent his life as one of the
oppressed, nothing could be more tempting than to help on the side of the
weak.
Argutis now undertook with ardent zeal to get Diodoros and his parents
safely on board the ship he was to engage, and to explain to Heron, as
soon as he should have read the letter which Alexander was now writing,
that, unless he could escape at once with Philip, he was lost. Finally,
he promised that the epistle to Caesar, which Melissa was composing,
should reach his hands on the morrow.
He could now receive his letter of freedom with gladness, and consented
to dress up in Heron's garments; for, as a slave, he would have been
forbidden to conclude a bargain with a ship's captain or any one else.
All this was done in hot haste, for Caesar was awaiting Alexander, and
Euryale expected Melissa. The ready zeal of the old man, free for the
first time to act on his own responsibility in matters which would have
been too much for many a free-born man, but to which he felt quite equal,
had an encouraging effect even on the oppressed hearts of the other two.
They knew now that, even if death should be their lot, Argutis would be
faithful to their father and sick brother, and the slave at once showed
his ingenuity and shrewdness; for, while the young people were vainly
trying to think of a hiding-place for Heron and Philip, he suggested a
spot which would hardly be discovered even by the sharpest spies.
Glaukias, the sculptor, who had already fled, was Heron's tenant. His
work-room, a barn-like structure, stood in the little vegetable-garden
which the gem-cutter had inherited from his father-in-law, and none but
Heron and the slave knew that, under the flooring, instead of a cellar,
there was a vast reservoir connected with the ancient aqueducts
constructed by Vespasian. Many years since Argutis had helped his master
to construct a trap-door to the entrance to these underground passages,
of which the existence had remained unknown even to Glaukias during all
the years he had inhabited the place. It was here that Heron kept his
gold, not taking his children even into his confidence; and only a few
months ago Argutis had been down with him and had found the old reservoir
dry, airy, and quite habitable. The gem-cutter would be quite content to
conceal himself where his treasure was, and the garden and work-room were
only distant a few hundred paces from his own home. To get Philip there
without being seen was to Argutis a mere trifle. Alexander, too, old
Dido, and, if needful, Diodoros, could all be concealed there. But for
Melissa, neither he nor Alexander thought it sufficiently secure.
As she took leave of him the young girl once more charged the newly
freed man to greet her father from her a thousand times, to beseech his
forgiveness of her for the bitter grief she must cause him, and to assure
him of her affection.
"Tell him," she added, as the tears streamed down her cheeks, "that I
feel as if I were going to my death. But, come what may, I am always his
dutiful child, always ready to sacrifice anything--excepting only the man
to whom, with my father's consent, I pledged my heart. Tell him that for
love of him I might have been ready even to give my hand to the blood-
stained Caesar, but that Fate--and perhaps the manes of her we loved, and
who is dead--have ordered it otherwise."
She then went into the room where her mother had closed her eyes. After
a short prayer by that bed, which still stood there, she hastened to
Philip's room. He lay sleeping heavily; she bent over him and kissed the
too high brow, which looked as though even in sleep the brain within were
still busy over some difficult and painful question.
Her way led her once more through her father's work-room, and she had
already crossed it when she hastily turned back to look once more--for
the last time-at the little table where she had sat for so many years,
busy with her needle, in modest contentment by the artist's side,
dreaming with waking eyes, and considering what she, with her small
resources and great love, could do that would be of use to those she
loved, or relieve them if they were in trouble. Then, as though she knew
that she was bidding a last farewell to all the pleasant companionship of
her youth, she looked at the birds, long since gone to roost in their
cages. In spite of his recent curule honors Heron had not forgotten
them, and, before quitting the house to display himself to the populace
in the 'toga pretexa', he had as usual carefully covered them up. And
now, as Melissa lifted the cloth from the starling's cage, and the bird
muttered more gently than usual, and perhaps in its sleep, the cry,
"Olympias!" a shudder ran through her; and, as she stepped out into the
road by Alexander's side, she said, dejectedly:
"Everything is coming to an end! Well, and so it may; for what has come
over us all in these few days? Before Caesar came, what were you--what
was Philip? In my own heart what peace reigned!
"And my father? There is one comfort, at any rate; even as praetor he
has not forgotten his birds, and he will find feathered friends go where
he may.
"But I--And it is for my sake that he must hide like a criminal!"
But here Alexander vehemently broke in: "It was not you, it was I who
brought all this misery on us!" And he went on to accuse himself so
bitterly that Melissa regretted having alluded to the misfortunes of
their family, and did her best to inspire him with courage.
As soon as Caesar should have left the city and she had evaded his
pursuit, the citizens would be easily persuaded of his innocence. They
would see then how little she had cared for the splendor and wealth of
empire; why, he himself knew how quickly everything was forgotten in
Alexandria. His art, too, would be a comfort to him, and if he only had
the chance of making his way in his career he would have no difficulty in
winning Agatha. He would have her on his side, and Diodoros, and the
lady Euryale.
But to all these kind speeches the young man only sadly shook his head.
How could he, despised and contemned, dare to aspire to the daughter of
such a man as Zeno? He ended with a deep sigh; and Melissa, whose heart
grew heavier as they approached the Serapeum through the side streets,
still forced herself to express her confidence as though the lady
Euryale's protection had relieved her of every anxiety. It was so
difficult to appear calm and cheerful that more than once she had to wipe
her eyes; still, their eager talk shortened the way, and she stood still,
surprised to find herself so near her destination, when Alexander showed
her the chain which was stretched across the end of the street of Hermes
to close in the great square in front of the Serapeum.
The storm had passed away and the rain had ceased; the sky was clear and
cloudless, and the moon poured its silvery light in lavish splendor, as
though revived, on the temple and on the statues round the square. Here
they must part, for they saw that it was impossible that they should
cross the open space together.
It was almost deserted, for the populace were not allowed to go there.
Of the hundreds of tents which till lately had covered it, only those of
the seventh cohort of the praetorian guard remained; for these, having to
protect the person of the emperor, had not been quartered in the town.
If Alexander and Melissa had crossed this vast square, where it was now
as light as clay, they would certainly have been seen, and Melissa would
have brought not herself only but her protectress also into the greatest
danger.
She still had so much on her mind that she wanted to say to her brother,
especially with regard to her father's welfare; and then--what a
leavetaking was this when, as her gloomy forebodings told her, they were
parting never to meet again But Euryale must have been long and anxiously
waiting for her, and Alexander, too, was very late for his appointment.
It was impossible to let the girl cross the square alone, for it was
guarded by soldiers. If she could but reach the side of the sanctuary
where she was expected, and where the road was in the shadow of the
riding-school opposite, all would be well, and it seemed as though there
was no alternative but for Alexander to lead his sister through by-ways
to her destination. They had just made up their minds to this inevitable
waste of time, when a young woman was seen coming toward them from one of
the tents with a swift, light step, winged with gladness. Alexander
suddenly released his sister's hand, and saying:
"She will escort you," he advanced to meet her. This was the wife of
Martialis, who had charge of the villa at Kanopus, and whose acquaintance
the artist had made when he was studying the Galatea in the merchant's
country-house for the portrait of Korinna. Alexander had made friends
with the soldier's wife in his winning, lively way, and she was delighted
to meet him again, and quite willing to escort his sister across the
square, and hold her tongue about it. So, after a short grasp of the
hand, and a fervent last appeal to her brother, "Never for a moment let
us forget one another, and always remember our mother!" Melissa followed
her companion.
This evening the woman had sought her husband to tell him that she and
her mother had got safely out of the Circus, and to thank him for the
entertainment, of which the splendor, in spite of the various
disturbances and interruption, had filled their hearts and minds.
The first words she spoke to the girl led to the question as to whether
she, too, had been at the Circus; and when Melissa said yes, but that she
had been too frightened and horrified to see much, the chattering little
woman began to describe it all.
Quite the best view, she declared, had been obtained from the third tier
of places. Caesar's bride, too, had been pointed out to her. Poor
thing! She would pay dearly for the splendor of the purple. No one
could dispute Caracalla's taste, however, for the girl was lovely beyond
description; and as she spoke she paused to look at Melissa, for she
fancied she resembled Caesar's sweetheart. But she went on again quicker
than before, remarking that Melissa was not so tall, and that the other
was more brilliant looking, as beseemed an emperor's bride.
At this Melissa drew her kerchief more closely over her face; but it was
a comfort to her when the soldier's wife, after describing to her what
she herself had worn, added that Caracalla's choice had fallen on a
modest and well-conducted maiden, for, if she had not been, the high-
priest's wife would never have been so kind to her. And the lady Euryale
was sister-in-law to the master she herself served, and she had known her
all her life.
Then, when Melissa, to change the subject, asked why the public were
forbidden to approach the Serapeum, her companion told her that since his
return from the Circus Caesar had been devoting himself to astrology,
soothsaying, and other abstruse matters, and that the noise of the city
disturbed him. He was very learned in such things, and if she only had
time she could have told Melissa wonderful things. Thus conversing, they
crossed the square, and when it lay behind them and they were under the
shadow of the stadium, Melissa thanked her lively companion for her
escort, while she, on her part, declared that it had been a pleasure to
do the friendly painter a service.
The western side of the immense temple stood quite detached from the
town. There were on that side but few bronze doors, and these, which
were opened only to the inhabitants of the building, had long since been
locked for the night and needed no guard. As the inhabitants were
forbidden to cross the space dividing the stadium from the Serapeum, all
was perfectly still. Dark shadows lay on the road, and the high
structures which shut it in like cliffs seemed to tower to the sky. The
lonely girl's heart beat fast with fears as she stole along, close under
the wall, from which a warm vapor breathed on her after the recent rain.
The black circles which seemed to stare at her like dark, hollow eye-
sockets from the wall of the stadium, were the windows of the stables.
If a runaway slave, an escaped wild beast, or a robber were to rush out
upon her! The owls swept across over her head on silent wings, and bats
flitted to and fro, from one building to the other, almost touching the
frightened girl. Her terrors increased at every step, and the wall which
she must follow to the end was so long--so endlessly long!
Supposing, too, that the lady Euryale had been tired of waiting and had
given her up! There would then be nothing for it but to make her way
back to the town past the guards, or to enter the temple through the
great gates--where that dreadful man was--and where she would at once be
recognized! Then there could be no escape, none--and she must, yes, she
must evade her dreadful suitor. Every thought of Diodoros cried, "You
must!"--even at the cost of her young life, of which, indeed, she saw the
imminent end nearer and nearer with every step. She knew not whither her
flight might take her, but a voice within declared that it would be to an
early grave.
Only a narrow strip of sky was visible between the tall buildings, but,
as she looked up to the heavens, she perceived that it was two hours past
midnight. She hurried on, but presently checked her pace again. From
the square, three trumpet-calls, one after another, rang through the
silence of the night. What could these signals mean at so unwonted an
hour?
There could be but one explanation--Caesar had again condemned some
hapless wretch to death, and he was being led to execution. When Vindex
and his nephew were beheaded, three trumpet-calls had sounded; her
brother had told her so.
And now, before her inward eye, rose the crowd of victims to Caracalla's
thirst for blood. She fancied that Plautilla, whom her imperial consort
had murdered, was beckoning her to follow her to an early grave. The
terrors of the night were too much for her; and, as when a child, at play
with her brothers, she flew on as fast as her feet would carry
her. She fled as though she were pursued, her long dress hampering her
steps, along by the temple wall, till her gaze, fixed on her left, fell
on the spot which had been designated to her.
Here she stopped, out of breath; and, while she was identifying the
landmarks which she had impressed on her memory to guide her to the right
doorway, the temple wall seemed to open before her as if by a charm, and
a kind voice called her name, and then exclaimed, "At last!" and in a
moment she had grasped Euryale's hand and was drawn into the building.
Here, as if at the touch of a magician's wand, all fear and horror
vanished; and, although she still panted for breath, she would at once
have explained to her beloved protectress what it was that had prompted
her to run so fast, but that Euryale interrupted her, exclaiming: "Only
make haste! No one must see that block of porphyry turn on its
pin. It is invisible from the outside, and closes the passage by which
the mystics and adepts find their way to the mysteries after dedication.
All who know of it are sworn to secrecy."
With this she led the way into a dark vestibule adjoining the temple, and
in a few moments the great block of stone which had admitted them had
turned into its place again. Those who passed by, even in broad
sunshine, could not distinguish it from all the other blocks of which the
ground-floor of the edifice was built.