The slave Bias had not gone to the hunting party with his master. He had
never been fit for such expeditions, since the Egyptian guard who took
him to the slave market for sale crippled the arch-traitor's son's left
leg by a blow, but he was all the more useful in the house, and even the
keenest eye could scarcely now perceive the injury which lessened his
commercial value.
He had prepared everything his master would need to shoot the birds very
early in the morning, and after helping the men push the boats into the
water, he, too, remained out of doors.
The old Nubian doorkeeper's little badger dog ran to meet him, as usual,
barking loudly, and startled a flock of sparrows, which flew up directly
in front of Bias and fluttered to and fro in confusion.
The slave regarded this as an infallible omen, and when Stephanion,
Daphne's maid, who had grown gray in the household of Archias, and though
a freed woman still worked in the old way, came out of the tent, he
called to her the gay Greek greeting, "Rejoice!" pointed to the sparrows,
and eagerly continued: "How one flies above another! how they flutter and
chirp and twitter! It will be a busy day."
Stephanion thought this interpretation of the ordinary action of the
birds very consistent with Bias's wisdom, which was highly esteemed in
the household of Archias, and it also just suited her inclination to chat
with him for a while, especially as she had brought a great deal of news
from Alexandria.
By way of introduction she mentioned the marriages and deaths in their
circle of acquaintances, bond and free, and then confided to the slave
what had induced her mistress to remain so long absent from her father,
whom she usually left alone for only a few hours at the utmost.
Archias himself had sent her here, after young Philotas, who was now
apparently wooing her with better success than other suitors, had spoken
of the enormous booty which one of his friends had brought from a
shooting expedition at Tennis, and Daphne had expressed a wish to empty
her quiver there too.
True, Philotas himself had been eager to guide the hunting party, but
Daphne declined his escort because--so the maid asserted--she cared far
more about meeting her cousins, the sculptors, than for the chase. Her
mistress had frankly told her so, but her father was delighted to hear
her express a wish, because for several months she had been so quiet and
listless that she, Stephanion, had become anxious about her. Meanwhile,
Daphne had tried honestly to conceal her feelings from the old man,
but such games of hide and seek were useless against the master's keen
penetration. He spared no pains in the preparations for the journey,
and the girl now seemed already transformed. This was caused solely by
meeting her cousins again; but if any one should ask her whether Daphne
preferred Myrtilus or Hermon, she could not give a positive answer.
"Cautious inquiry saves recantation," replied Bias importantly. "Yet you
may believe my experience, it is Myrtilus. Fame inspires love, and what
the world will not grant my master, in spite of his great talent, it
conceded to the other long ago. And, besides, we are not starving; but
Myrtilus is as rich as King Croesus of Sardis. Not that Daphne, who is
stifling in gold herself, would care about that, but whoever knows life
knows--where doves are, doves will fly."
Stephanion, however, was of a different opinion, not only because Daphne
talked far more about the black-bearded cousin than the fair one, but
because she knew the girl, and was seldom mistaken in such matters. She
would not deny that Daphne was also fond of Myrtilus. Yet probably
neither of the artists, but Philotas, would lead home the bride, for he
was related to the royal family--a fine, handsome man; and, besides, her
father preferred him to the other suitors who hovered around her as flies
buzzed about honey. Of course, matters would be more favourable to
Philotas in any other household. Who else in Alexandria would consult
the daughter long, when he was choosing her future husband? But Archias
was a white raven among fathers, and would never force his only child to
do anything.
Marrying and loving, however, were two different affairs. If Eros had
the final decision, her choice might perhaps fall on one of the artists.
Here she was interrupted by the slave's indignant exclamation: "What
contradictions! 'Woman's hair is long, but her wit is short,' says the
proverb. 'Waiting is the merchant's wisdom,' I have heard your master
say more than once, and to obey the words of shrewd people is the best
plan for those who are not so wise. Meanwhile, I am of the opinion that
curiosity alone brought Daphne--who, after all, is only a woman--to this
place. She wants to see the statues of Demeter which her father ordered
from us."
"And the Arachne?" asked the maid. This was an opportune question to the
slave--how often he had heard the artists utter the word "Arachne!"--and
his pride of education had suffered from the consciousness that he knew
nothing about her except the name, which in Greek meant "the spider."
Some special story must surely be associated with this Arachne, for which
his master desired to use his young countrywoman, Ledscha, as a model,
and whose statues Archias intended to place in his house in Alexandria
and in the great weaving establishment at Tennis beside the statue of
Demeter.
Stephanion, a Greek woman who grew up in a Macedonian household, must
know something about her.
So he cautiously turned the conversation to the spinner Arachne, and when
Stephanion entered into it, admitted that he, too, was curious to learn
in what way the sculptors would represent her.
"Yes," replied the maid, "my mistress has more than once racked her
brains over that, and Archias too. Perhaps they will carve her as a girl
at work in the house of her father Idmon, the purple dyer of Colophon."
"Never," replied Bias in a tone of dissent. "Just imagine how the loom
would look wrought in gold and ivory!"
"I thought so too," said Stephanion, in apology for the foolish idea."
Daphne thinks that the two will model her in different ways: Myrtilus,
as mistress in the weaving room, showing with proud delight a piece just
completed to the nymphs from the Pactolus and other rivers, who sought
her at Colophon to admire her work; but Hermon, after she aroused the
wrath of Athene because she dared to weave into the hangings the love
adventures of the gods with mortal women."
"Father Zeus as a swan toying with Leda," replied Bias as confidently as
if Arachne's works were before his eyes, "and in the form of a bull
bearing away Europa, the chaste Artemis bending over the sleeping
Endymion."
"How that pleases you men!" interrupted the maid, striking him lightly on
the arm with the duster which she had brought from the tent. "But ought
the virgin Athene to be blamed because she punished the weaver who, with
all her skill, was only a mortal woman, for thus exposing her divine
kindred?"
"Certainly not," replied Bias, and Stephanion went on eagerly: "And when
the great Athene, who invented weaving and protects weavers, condescended
to compete with Arachne, and was excelled by her, surely her gall must
have overflowed. Whoever is just will scarcely blame her for striking
the audacious conqueror on the brow with the weaver's shuttle."
"It is that very thing," replied Bias modestly, "which to a short-sighted
fool like myself--may the great goddess not bear me a grudge for it!--
never seemed just in her. Even the mortal who succumbs in a fair fight
ought not to be enraged against the victor. At least, so I was taught.
But what, I ask myself, when I think of the stones which were flung at
Hermon's struggling Maenads, could be less suited for imitation than two
women, one of whom strikes the other?"
"The woman who in her desperation at that blow desires to hang herself,
must produce a still more horrible impression," replied Stephanion.
"Probably she will be represented as Athene releases her from the noose
rather than when, as a punishment for her insolence, she transforms
Arachne into a spider."
"That she might be permitted, in the form of an insect, to make artistic
webs until the end of her life," the slave, now sufficiently well
informed, added importantly. "Since that transformation, as you know,
the spider has been called by the Greeks Arachne. Perhaps--I always
thought so--Hermon will represent her twisting the rope with which she is
to kill herself. You have seen many of our works, and know that we love
the terrible."
"Oh, let me go into your studio!" the maid now entreated no less urgently
than her mistress had done a short time before, but her wish, too,
remained ungratified.
"The sculptors," Bias truthfully asserted, "always kept their
workrooms carefully locked." They were as inaccessible as the strongest
fortress, and it was wise, less on account of curious spectators, from
whom there was nothing to fear, than of the thievish propensities of the
people. The statues, by Archias's orders, were to be executed in
chryselephantine work, and the gold and ivory which this required might
only too easily awaken the vice of cupidity in the honest and frugal
Biamites. So nothing could be done about it, not to mention the fact
that he was forbidden, on pain of being sold to work in a stone quarry,
to open the studio to any one without his master's consent.
So the maid, too, was obliged to submit, and the sacrifice was rendered
easier for her because, just at that moment, a young female slave called
her back to the tent where Chrysilla, Daphne's companion, a matron who
belonged to a distinguished Greek family, needed her services.
Bias, rejoicing that he had at last learned, without exposing his own
ignorance, the story of the much-discussed Arachne, returned to the
house, where he remained until Daphne came back from shooting with her
companions. While the latter were talking about the birds they had
killed, Bias went out of doors; but he was forced to give up his desire
to listen to a conversation which was exactly suited to arrest his
attention, for after the first few sentences he perceived behind the
thorny acacias in the "garden" his countrywoman Ledscha.
So she was keeping her promise. He recognised her plainly, in spite of
the veil which covered the back of her head and the lower portion of her
face. Her black eyes were visible, and what a sinister light shone in
them as she fixed them sometimes on Daphne, sometimes on Hermon, who
stood talking together by the steps!
The evening before Bias had caught a glimpse of this passionate
creature's agitated soul. If anything happened here that incensed or
wounded her she would be capable of committing some unprecedented act
before the very master's honoured guest.
To prevent this was a duty to the master whom he loved, and against whom
he had only warned Ledscha because he was reluctant to see a free maiden
of his own race placed on a level with the venal Alexandrian models, but
still more because any serious love affair between Hermon and the Biamite
might bring disastrous consequences upon both, and therefore also on
himself. He knew that the free men of his little nation would not suffer
an insult offered by a Greek to a virgin daughter of their lineage to
pass unavenged.
True, in his bondage he had by no means remained free from all the bad
qualities of slaves, but he was faithfully devoted to his master, who had
imposed upon him a great debt of gratitude; for though, during the trying
period of variance with his rich and generous uncle, Hermon had often
been offered so large a sum for him that it would have relieved the
artist from want, he could not be induced to yield his "wise and faithful
Bias" to another. The slave had sworn to himself that he would never
forget this, and he kept his oath.
Freedmen and slaves were moving to and fro in the large open square
before him, amid the barking of the dogs and the shouts of the male and
female venders of fruit, vegetables, and fish, who hoped to dispose of
their wares in the kitchen tent of the wealthy strangers.
The single veiled woman attracted no attention here, but Bias kept his
gaze fixed steadily upon her, and as she curved her little slender hand
above her brow to shade her watchful eyes from the dazzling sunlight, and
set her beautifully arched foot on a stone near one of the trees in order
to gain a better view, he thought of the story of the weaver which he had
just heard.
Though the stillness of the hot noontide was interrupted by many sounds,
it exerted a bewitching influence over him.
Ledscha seemed like the embodiment of some great danger, and when she
lowered one arm and raised the other to protect herself again from the
radiance of the noonday sun, he started; for through the brain of the
usually fearless man darted the thought that now the nimble spiderlegs
were moving to draw him toward her, entwine him, and suck his heart's
blood.
The illusion lasted only a few brief moments, but when it vanished and
the girl had regained the figure of an unusually slender, veiled Biamite
woman, he shook his head with a sigh of relief, for never had such a
vision appeared to him in broad noonday and while awake, and it must have
been sent to warn him and his master against this uncanny maiden.
It positively announced some approaching misfortune which proceeded from
this beautiful creature.
The Biamite now advanced hesitatingly toward Hermon and Daphne, who were
still a considerable distance from her. But Bias had also quitted his
post of observation, and after she had taken a few steps forward, barred
her way.
With a curt "Come," he took her hand, whispering, "Hermon is joyously
expecting your visit."
Ledscha's veil concealed her mouth, but the expression of her eyes made
him think that it curled scornfully.
Yet she silently followed him.
At first he led her by the hand, but on the way he saw at the edge of her
upper veil the thick, dark eyebrows which met each other, and her fingers
seemed to him so strangely cold and tapering that a shudder ran through
his frame and he released them.
Ledscha scarcely seemed to notice it, and, with bowed head, walked beside
him through the side entrance to the door of Hermon's studio.
It was a disappointment to her to find it locked, but Bias did not heed
her angry complaint, and led her into the artist's sitting room,
requesting her to wait for his master there.
Then he hurried to the steps, and by a significant sign informed the
sculptor that something important required his attention.
Hermon understood him, and Bias soon had an opportunity to tell the
artist who it was that desired to speak to him and where he had taken
Ledscha. He also made him aware that he feared some evil from her, and
that, in an alarming vision, she had appeared to him as a hideous spider.
Hermon laughed softly. "As a spider? The omen is appropriate. We will
make her a woman spider--an Arachne that is worth looking at. But this
strange beauty is one of the most obstinate of her sex, and if I let her
carry out her bold visit in broad daylight she will get the better of me
completely. The blood must first be washed from my hands here. The
wounded sea eagle tore the skin with its claw, and I concealed the
scratch from Daphne. A strip of linen to bandage it! Meanwhile, let the
impatient intruder learn that her sign is not enough to open every door."
Then he entered his sitting room, greeted Ledscha curtly, invited her to
go into the studio, unlocked it, and left her there alone while he went
to his chamber with the slave and had the slight wound bandaged
comfortably.
While Bias was helping his master he repeated with sincere anxiety his
warning against the dangerous beauty whose eyebrows, which had grown
together, proved that she was possessed by the demons of the nether
world.
"Yet they increase the austere beauty of her face," assented the artist.
"I should not want to omit them in modelling Arachne while the goddess is
transforming her into a spider! What a subject! A bolder one was
scarcely ever attempted and, like you, I already see before me the coming
spider."
Then, without the slightest haste, he exchanged the huntsman's chiton for
the white chlamys, which was extremely becoming to his long, waving
beard, and at last, exclaiming gaily, "If I stay any longer, she will
transform herself into empty air instead of the spider," he went to her.