In spite of the surrounding gloom, Ledscha recognised the man who left
the boat.
The greeting he shouted told her that it was Hermon's slave, Pias, a
Biamite, whom she had met in the house of some neighbours who were his
relatives and had sharply rebuffed when he ventured to accost her more
familiarly than was seemly for one in bondage.
True, in his childhood this man had lived near Tennis as the son of a
free papyrus raiser, but when still a lad was sold into slavery in
Alexandria with his father, who had been seized for taking part in an
insurrection against the last king.
In the service of Areluas, his present master's uncle, who had given him
to his nephew, and as the slave of the impetuous yet anything but cruel
sculptor, Hermon, he had become accustomed to bondage, but was still far
more strongly attached to his Biamite race than to the Greek, to whom,
it is true, his master belonged, but who had robbed him and his family of
freedom.
The man of forty did not lack mother wit, and as his hard fate rendered
him thoughtful and often led him to use figurative turns of speech, which
were by no means intended as jests, he had been called by his first
master "Bias" for the sage of Priene.
In the house of Hermon, who associated with the best artists in
Alexandria, he had picked up all sorts of knowledge and gladly welcomed
instruction. His highest desire was to win esteem, and he often did so.
Hermon prized the useful fellow highly. He had no secrets from him, and
was sure of his silence and good will.
Bias had managed to lure many a young beauty in Alexandria, in whom the
sculptor had seen a desirable model, to his studio, even under the most
difficult circumstances; but he was vexed to find that his master had
cast his eye upon the daughter of one of the most distinguished families
among his own people. He knew, too, that the Biamites jealously guarded
the honour of their women, and had represented to Hermon what a dangerous
game he was playing when he began to offer vows of love to Ledscha.
So it was an extremely welcome task to be permitted to inform her that
she was awaiting his master in vain.
In reply to her inquiry whether it was the aristocrat who had just
arrived who kept Hermon from her, he admitted that she was right, but
added that the gods were above even kings, and his master was obliged to
yield to the Alexandrian's will.
Ledscha laughed incredulously: "He--obey a woman!"
"He certainly would not submit to a man," replied the slave. "Artists,
you must know, would rather oppose ten of the most powerful men than one
weak woman, if she is only beautiful. As for the daughter of Archias--
thereby hangs a tale."
"Archias?" interrupted the girl. "The rich Alexandrian who owns the
great weaving house?"
"The very man."
"So it is his daughter who is keeping Hermon? And you say he is obliged
to serve her?"
"As men serve the Deity, to the utmost, or truth," replied the slave
importantly. "Archias, the father, it is true, imposed upon us the debt
which is most tardily paid, and which people, even in this country, call
'gratitude.' We are under obligations to the old man--there's no denying
it--and therefore also to his only child."
"For what?" Ledscha indignantly exclaimed, and the dark eyebrows which
met above her delicate nose contracted suspiciously. "I must know!"
"Must!" repeated the slave. "That word is a ploughshare which suits
only loose soil, and mine, now that my master is waiting for me, can not
be tilled even by the sharpest. Another time! But if, meanwhile, you
have any message for Hermon----"
"Nothing," she replied defiantly; but Bias, in a tone of the most eager
assent, exclaimed: "One friendly word, girl. You are the fairest among
the daughters of the highest Biamite families, and probably the richest
also, and therefore a thousand times too good to yield what adorns you
to the Greek, that it may tickle the curiosity of the Alexandrian apes.
There are more than enough women in the capital to serve that purpose.
Trust the experience of a man not wholly devoid of wisdom, my girl. He
will throw you aside like an empty wine bottle when he has used you for
a model."
"Used?" interrupted Ledscha disdainfully; but he repeated with firm
decision: "Yes, used! What could you learn of life, of art and artists,
here in the weaver's nest in the midst of the waves? I know them. A
sculptor needs beautiful women as a cobbler wants leather, and the charms
he seeks in you he does not conceal from his friend Myrtilus, at least.
They are your large almond-shaped eyes and your arms. They make him
fairly wild with delight by their curves when, in drawing water, you hold
the jug balanced on your head. Your slender arched foot, too, is a
welcome morsel to him."
The darkness prevented Bias from seeing Ledscha's features, but it
was easy to perceive what was passing in her mind as, hoarse with
indignation, she gasped: "How can I know the object of your accusations?
but fie upon the servant who would alienate from his own kind master what
his soul desires!"
Then Bias changed not only his tone of voice, but his language, and,
deeply offended, poured forth a torrent of wrath in the dialect of his
people: "If to guard you, and my master with you, from harm, my words had
the power to put between you and Hermon the distance which separates
yonder rising moon from Tennis, I would make them sound as loud as the
lion's roar. Yet perhaps you would not understand them, for you go
through life as though you were deaf and blind. Did you ever even ask
yourself whether the Greek is not differently constituted from the sons
of the Biamite sailors and fishermen, with whom you grew up, and to whom
he is an abomination? Yet he is no more like them than poppy juice is
like pure water. He and his companions turn life upside down. There is
no more distinction between right and wrong in Alexandria than we here in
the dark can make between blue and green. To me, the slave, who is
already growing old, Hermon is a kind master. I know without your aid
what I owe him, and serve him as loyally as any one; but where he
threatens to lead to ruin the innocent daughter of the race whose blood
flows in my veins as well as yours, and in doing so perhaps finally
destroy himself too, conscience commands me to raise my voice as loud as
the sentinel crane when danger threatens the flock. Beware, girl, I
repeat! Keep your beauty, which is now to be degraded to feast the eyes
of gaping Greeks, for the worthiest husband among our people. Though
Hermon has vowed, I know not what, your love-dallying will very soon be
over; we shall leave Tennis within the next few days. When he has gone
there will be one more deceived Biamite who will call down the curse of
the gods upon the head of a Greek. You are not the only one who will
execrate the destiny that brought us here. Others have been caught in
his net too."
"Here?" asked Ledscha in a hollow tone; and the slave eagerly answered:
"Where else? And that you may know the truth--among those who visited
Hermon in his studio is your own young sister."
"Our Taus? That child?" exclaimed the girl, stretching her hands
toward the slave in horror, as if to ward off some impending disaster.
"That child, who, I think, has grown into a very charming girl--and,
before her, pretty Gula, the wife of Paseth, who, like your father, is
away on his ship."
Here, in a tone of triumphant confidence, the answer rang from the
Biamite's lips: "There the slanderer stands revealed! Now you are
detected, now I perceive the meaning of your threat. Because, miserable
slave, you cherish the mad hope of beguiling me yourself, you do your
utmost to estrange me from your master. Gula, you say, visited Hermon in
his studio, and it may be true. But though I have been at home only a
short time, Tennis is too full of the praises of the heroic Greek who,
at the risk of his own life, rescued a child from Paseth's burning house,
for the tale not to reach my ears from ten or a dozen different quarters.
Gula is the mother of the little girl whose life was saved by Hermon's
bold deed, and perhaps the young mother only knocked at her benefactor's
door to thank him; but you, base defamer--"
"I," Bias continued, maintaining his composure with difficulty, "I saw
Gula secretly glide into our rooms again and again to permit her child's
preserver to imitate in clay what he considered beautiful. To seek your
love, as you know, the slave forbade himself, although a man no more
loses tender desires with his freedom than the tree which is encircled by
a fence ceases to put forth buds and blossoms. Eros chooses the slave's
heart also as the target for his arrows; but his aim at yours was better
than at mine. Now I know how deeply he wounds, and so, as soon as yonder
ship in the harbour bears our visitor away again, I shall see you,
Schalit's daughter, Ledscha, standing before Hermon's modelling table and
behold him scan your beauty to determine what seems worth copying."
The Biamite, panting for breath, had listened to the end. Then, raising
her little clinched hand menacingly, she muttered through her set teeth:
"Let him try even to touch my veil with his fingers! If I had not been
obliged to go away, this would not have happened to my Taus and luckless
Gula."
"Scarcely," replied Bias calmly. "If the chicken runs into the water,
the hen can not save it. For the rest--I grew up as a boy in freedom
with the husband of your sister, who summoned you to her aid. His
father's brick-kiln was next to our papyrus plantation. Then we fared
like so many others--the great devour the small, the just cause is the
lost one, and the gods are like men. My father, who drew the sword
against oppression and violence, was robbed of liberty, and your brother-
in-law, in payment for his honest courage, met an early death. Is the
story which is told of you here true? I heard that soon after the poor
fellow's burial the slaves in the brick-kiln refused to obey his widow.
There were a dozen rebellious brick-moulders, and you--one can forgive
you much for it--you, the weak girl----"
"I am not weak," interrupted Ledscha proudly. "I could have taught three
times twelve of the scoundrels who was master. Now they obey my sister,
and yet I wish I had stayed in Tennis. Our Taus," she continued in a
more gentle tone, "is still so young, and our mother died when she was a
little child; but I, fool, who should have warned her, left her alone,
and if she yielded to Hermon's temptations the fault is mine, wholly
mine."
During this outburst the light of the fire, which old Tabus had fed with
fresh straw and dry rushes, fell upon the face of the agitated girl. It
revealed her thoughts plainly enough, and, pleased with the success of
his warning, Bias exclaimed: "And Ledscha, you, too, will not grant him
that from which you would so gladly have withheld your sister. So I will
go and tell my master that you refuse to give him another appointment."
He had confidently expected an assent, and therefore started indignantly
at her exclamation: "I intend to do just the contrary." Yet she eagerly
added, as if in explanation: "He must give me an account of himself, no
matter where, and, since it can not be to-day, to-morrow at latest."
The slave, disappointed and anxious, now tried to make her understand how
foolish and hard to accomplish her wish was, but she obstinately insisted
upon having her own way.
Bias angrily turned his back upon her and, in the early light of the
moon, walked toward the shore, but she hastened after him, seized his arm
and, with imperious firmness, commanded: "You will stay! I must first
know whether Hermon really means to leave Tennis so soon."
"That was his intention early this morning," replied the other, releasing
himself from her grasp. "What are we to do here longer, now that his
work is as good as finished?"
"But when is he going?" she urged with increased eagerness.
"Day after to-morrow," was the reply, "in five, or perhaps even in six
days, just as it suits him. Usually we do not even know to-day what is
to be done to-morrow. So long as the Alexandrian remains, he will
scarcely leave her, or Myrtilus either. Probably she will take both
hunting with her, for, though a kind, fair-minded woman, she loves the
chase, and as both have finished their work, they probably will not be
reluctant to go with Daphne."
He stepped into the boat as he spoke, but Ledscha again detained him,
asking impatiently: "And 'the work,' as you call it? It was covered
with a cloth when I visited the studio, but Hermon himself termed it the
statue of a goddess. Yet what it represents--Does it look like my sister
Taus--enough like her, I mean, to be recognised?"
A half-compassionate, half-mocking smile flitted over the Biamite's
copper-coloured visage, and in a tone of patronizing instruction assumed
by the better informed, he began: "You are thinking of the face? Why no,
child! What that requires can be found in the countenance of no Biamite,
hardly even in yours, the fairest of all."
"And the goddess's figure?" asked Ledscha eagerly.
"For that he first used as a model the fair-haired Heliodora, whom he
summoned from Alexandria, and as the wild cat could endure the loneliness
only a fortnight, the sisters Nico and Pagis came together. But Tennis
was too quiet for them too. The rabble can only be contented among those
of their own sort in the capital. But the great preliminary work was
already finished before we left Alexandria."
"And Gula--my sister?"
"They were not used for the Demeter," said the slave, smiling. "Just
think, that slender scarcely grown creature, Taus, and the matronly
patroness of marriage. And Gula? True, her little round face is fresh
and not ill-looking--but the model of a goddess requires something more.
That can only be obtained in Alexandria. What do not the women there do
for the care of the body! They learn it in the Aphrodision, as the boys
study reading and writing. But you! What do you here know even about
colouring the eyelids and the lips, curling the hair, and treating the
nails on the hands and feet? And the clothes! You let them hang just as
you put them on, and my master's work is full of folds and little lines
in the robe and the peplos--But I have staid too long already. Do you
really insist upon meeting Hermon again?
"I will and must see him," she eagerly declared.
"Well, then," he answered harshly. "But if you cast my warning to the
winds, pity will also fly away with it."
"I do not need it," the girl retorted in a contemptuous tone.
"Then let Fate take its course," said the slave, shrugging his shoulders
regretfully. "My master shall learn what you wish. I shall remain at
home until the market is empty. There are plenty of servants at your
farm. Your messenger shall bring you Hermon's answer."
"I will come myself and wait for it under the acacia," she cried hastily,
and went toward the house, but this time it was Bias who called her back.
Ledscha reluctantly fulfilled his wish, but she soon regretted it, for
though what he had to say was doubtless kindly meant, it contained a
fresh and severe offence: the slave represented to her the possibilitv
that, so long as the daughter of Archias remained his guest, Hermon might
rebuff her like a troublesome beggar.
Then, as if sure of her cause, she indignantly cut short his words: "You
measure him according to your own standard, and do not know what depends
upon it for us. Remind him of the full moon on the coming night and,
though ten Alexandrians detained him, he would escape from them to hear
what I bring him."
With these words Ledscha again turned her back upon him, but Bias, with a
low imprecation, pushed the boat from the shore and rowed toward the
city.