When the day was over, Alpheus called to him his foster-child.
"You have willingly followed us into our exile," he said, "nor have you
ever inquired whither we lead you. Listen to me; I shall confide to you
a secret, so that, if evil befall us, you may go on and fulfil your
journey.
"In Asia stands a city, called Thyatira, and there dwell men of a new
religion, called Christians. Of this faith I know as yet but little.
But, dear Evadne, your father is yet living, and has sent, praying me to
conduct you to him, that you may be taught among Christians. I have
labored to fulfil his wish, for in our youth we were dear to each other.
The moon saw us nightly upon the hills, guarding our flocks, and by day
we practised the labors and the sports of Greeks."
"What is the religion of my father?" asked the child.
"I cannot tell it to you; I know only that the Christians worship one
god."
"Apollo, then, is my choice."
"Not so, child. The god of Christians is not known to us; but he shall
overthrow the idols of the whole world. The bow of Diana, the lyre of
Apollo, are already broken."
The child started. Was the temple known to Alpheus, too? Had he seen
there the fragments of a shattered harp?
The old man continued his discourse, but Evadne's thoughts had flown
away towards the lost temple.
"There alone will I worship," she murmured to herself. She dreamed of
adoring the deity of stone, but Hylas haunted all her thoughts. Yes,
Evadne! one god is sufficient for you!
Under cover of the darkness, the friendly boatman drew near, and the
islanders heard the unaccustomed sound of the boat drawn up the beach by
the youth, whose superstitious fears began to vanish as he observed that
no calamity fell upon these dwellers on the sacred spot.
"I come," he said, "with gifts truly, but also with good tidings. Have
patience yet awhile. Your retreat is still unknown, and, after a few
days, I may find you the means of escape."
Evadne alone was silent, and her tears flowed secretly.
The sun was already set, on the following day, before she stole away to
meet the hunter-boy. In his hand, as he advanced joyously to greet her,
he bore a white dove, which his arrow had pierced.
"I struck it," he said, while he pointed to its broken wing and bleeding
breast, "when it alighted on the edge of a stone fallen from the
temple."
Evadne concealed her ready tears and uttered no reproach against her
hero; but she pressed the dead bird to her bosom.
"Tell me, Hylas," she asked, "do you worship this god before us, or that
of the Christians?"
The boy laughed gayly.
"I worship this strong right arm," he said, "and my own bold will, which
has conquered and shall conquer again! The stories of the gods are but
fables. To us who are brave nothing can be forbidden; it is the weak who
are unfortunate, and no god is able either to assist or to destroy us.
As to the Christians, they are a despised people, a race of madmen, who,
pretending to love poverty and martyrdom, are followed by the rude and
ignorant. As for us, we are gods, both to them and to ourselves."
Evadne knew that she herself must be counted among the rude and
ignorant; she dared not raise her eyes to the young noble, who watched
her quivering lip, and but dimly guessed how he had wounded her.
"Leave caressing the dead bird," he said, at last, "and I will tell you
tales of Rome and its glories."
And he charmed back again her innocent smiles, with noble traditions of
kings, of gods, and of heroes, till the round moon stood above Gargarus,
cold, in a rose-tinted heaven.
But again at sunrise the child sought the spot to bring a basket, heavy
with gifts, for Hylas. He came at the call of Evadne, fresh, glowing,
beautiful as a child rocked on the breast of Aurora, and upheld by her
cool, fanning wings. His cheek wore the kiss of the Sun, and his closely
curling locks were wet by the scattered fountain, cold in the shaded
grove. He broke the early silence of the air with song and story, and
named for the admiring child the towns, the headlands, and the hills,
over which the eye delighted to wander.
"Now is the hour," he said, "when mariners far away behold for a little
while the dome of this temple. They believe that the gods have rendered
it invisible except at the rising day; but, in truth, the oaks, the
laurels, and the unpruned ivy conceal it from view, at all times, except
when the rays from the east strike upward. I have delighted to teach the
people fables concerning this island and the lost temple; for as long as
they fear to tread upon this spot, I have a retreat for myself, where I
range unmolested.
"See yonder, so white among the dark cypress-trees, my father's villa!
It has gardens and shady groves, but I love best the wild branching oaks
which give their shade to Evadne! Far away in the purple distance stands
the Mount of Ida. There dwelt Paris, content with the love of Oenone,
until he knew himself to be the son of a king, for whom Argive Helen
alone was found worthy; for his eyes had rested once upon immortal
charms, of which the green eternal pines of Ida are still whispering the
story. See how the people of this village of Athos flock together! Some
festival occupies them. I see them going forth from the gates in
hurrying crowds; and now a band of men approaches. Some one is about to
enter their town, to whom they wish to do honor, and doubtless they bear
green branches to strew in the way. I know not what festival they
celebrate, for the altars are all deserted."
"I see a boat put off from the shore," said Evadne, "and it seems to
turn its prow hitherward."
But it soon was concealed by the woody hill-top, although its course was
seen to be directed towards the ruined huts upon the shore. Not long
after, the children heard the name of "Evadne," brought faintly by the
echoes, like the words of unseen ghosts who strive to awaken some
beloved sleeper unconscious of their presence.
Evadne feared to return, and dared not stay. For the first time, the
voice of her foster-father failed to bring her obedient footsteps; for
her fluttering heart suspected something strange and unwelcome awaiting
her. She wept at parting from Hylas, and the boy detained her. He also
seemed troubled.
"Dear little one," he said, "betray me not! These men of Athos have seen
me, and have authority to bring me bound before some ruler who has
entered their town. They come to look for me now. I fly to my
hiding-place, and you will deny that you saw any one in this forest."
He was gone down the face of the cliff, with winged feet, light of tread
as Jove's messenger. More slowly, Evadne retraced the downward path, and
lingered on the banks of the ravine, where the bitter waters were
sobbing among the rocks. She lay down upon the ground, and dreamed,
while yet waking, of her home in Thessaly, of her unknown father in the
Christian city of Thyatira, and of Hylas, ever Hylas, and the pain of
parting. How long she hid herself she guessed not, until the sun at the
zenith sent down his brightest beam to discover the lost Thessalian
lamb. Then, subdued and despairing, she travelled on to meet the
reproaches that could not fail to await her.