While waiting in the studio Ledscha had used the time to satisfy her
curiosity.
What was there not to be seen!
On pedestals and upon the boards of the floor, on boxes, racks, and along
the wall, stood, lay, or hung the greatest variety of articles: plaster
casts of human limbs and parts of the bodies of animals, male and female,
of clay and wax, withered garlands, all sorts of sculptor's tools, a
ladder, vases, cups and jars for wine and water, a frame over which linen
and soft woollen materials were spread, a lute and a zither, several
seats, an armchair, and in one corner a small table with three
dilapidated book rolls, writing tablets, metal styluses, and reed pens.
All these articles were arranged haphazard, and showed that Bias
possessed more wisdom than care in the use of duster and broom.
It would have been difficult to count the number of things brought
together here, but the unusually long, wide room was by no means crowded.
Ledscha cast a wondering glance sometimes at one object, sometimes at
another, but without understanding its meaning or its use.
The huge figure on the pedestal in the middle of the studio, upon which
the full glare of light fell through the open windows, was certainly the
statue of the goddess on which Hermon was working; but a large gray cloth
concealed it from her gaze.
How tall it was!
When she looked at it more closely she felt small and oppressed by
comparison.
A passionate longing urged her to remove the cloth, but the boldness of
the act restrained her. After she had taken another survey of the
spacious apartment, which she was visiting for the first time by
daylight, the torturing feeling of being neglected gained possession of
her.
She clinched her white teeth more firmly, and when there was a noise at
the door that died away again without bringing the man she expected, she
went up to the statue which she had already walked past quietly several
times and, obeying an impatient impulse, freed it from its covering.
The goddess, now illumined by the sunlight, shone before her in gleaming
yellow gold and snowy ivory.
She had never seen such a statue, and drew back dazzled.
What a master was the man who had deceived her trusting heart!
He had created a Demeter; the wheat in her hand showed it.
How beautiful this work was--and how valuable! It produced a powerful
impression upon her mind, wholly unaccustomed to the estimate of such
things.
The goddess before her was the very one whose statue stood in the temple
of Demeter, and to whom she also sacrificed, with the Greeks in Tennis,
when danger threatened the harvest. Involuntarily she removed the lower
veil from her face and raised her hand in prayer.
Meanwhile she gazed into the pallid face, carved from ivory, of the
immortal dispenser of blessings, and suddenly the blood crimsoned her
cheeks, the nostrils of her delicate, slightly arched nose rose and fell
more swiftly, for the countenance of the goddess--she was not mistaken--
was that of the Alexandrian whom she had just watched so intently, and
for whose sake Hermon had left her in the lurch the evening before.
Now, too, she remembered for what purpose the sculptor was said to have
lured Gula, the sailor's wife, and her own young sister Taus, to his
studio, and in increasing excitement she drew the cloth also from the
bust beside the Demeter.
Again the Alexandrian's face--the likeness was even more unmistakable
than in the goddess.
The Greek girl alone occupied his thoughts. Hermon had disdained to
model the Biamite's head.
What could the others, or she herself, be to him, since he loved the rich
foreigner in the tent outside, and her alone? How firmly her image must
have been impressed upon his soul, that he could reproduce the features
of the absent one with such lifelike fidelity!
Yet with what bold assurance he had protested that his heart belonged
solely to her. But she thought that she now perceived his purpose. If
the slave was right, it was done that she might permit him to model what
he admired in her figure, only not the head and face, whose beauty,
nevertheless, he praised so extravagantly.
Had he attracted Gula and her sister with similar sweet flatteries? Had
the promise to bestow their charms upon a goddess been made to them also?
The swift throbbing of her indignant heart made it impossible for her to
think calmly, but its vehement pulsation reminded her of the object of
her presence here.
She had come to obtain a clear understanding between him and herself.
She stood here as a judge.
She must know whether she had been betrayed or deceived.
He should confess what his intentions toward her were. The next moments
must decide the fate of her life, and she added, drawing a long breath,
perhaps of his also.
Suddenly Ledscha started. She had not heard Hermon enter the studio, and
was now startled by his greeting.
It was not positively unkind, but certainly not a lover's.
Perhaps the words might have been warmer, but for his annoyance at the
insolent boldness with which she had removed the coverings from his
works. He restrained himself from openly blaming her, it is true, but he
exclaimed, with a tinge of gay sarcasm: "You seem to feel very much at
home here already, fairest of the fair. Or was it the goddess herself
who removed the curtain from her image in order to show herself to her
successor upon this pedestal?"
But the question was to remain unanswered, for under the spell of the
resentment which filled her heart, and in the effort not to lose sight of
the object that brought her here, Ledscha had only half understood its
meaning, and pointing her slender forefinger at the face of his completed
work, she demanded to know whom she recognised in this statue.
"The goddess Demeter," he answered quietly; "but if it pleases you
better, as you seem to be on the right track, also the daughter of
Archias."
Then, angered by the wrathful glance she cast at him, he added more
sternly: "She is kind-hearted, free from disagreeable whims and the
disposition to torture others who are kindly disposed toward her.
So I adorned the goddess with her pleasant features."
"Mine, you mean to say," Ledscha answered bitterly, "would be less
suitable for this purpose. Yet they, too, can wear a different
expression from the present one. You, I think, have learned this.
Only I shall never acquire the art of dissimulation, not even in your
society."
"You seem to be angry on account of my absence yesterday evening?
"Hermon asked in an altered tone, clasping her hand; but Ledscha snatched
it from him, exclaiming: "The model of the Demeter, the daughter of the
wealthy Archias, detained you, you were going to tell me, and you think
that ought to satisfy the barbarian maiden."
"Folly!" he answered angrily. "I owe a debt of gratitude to her father,
who was my guardian, and custom commands you also to honour a guest. But
your obstinacy and jealousy are unbearable. What great thing is it that
I ask of your love? A little patience. Practise it. Then your turn
will come too."
"Of course, the second and third will follow the first," she answered
bitterly. "After Gula, the sailor's wife, you lured my innocent young
sister, Taus, to this apartment; or am I mistaken in the order, and was
Gula the second?"
"So that's it!" cried Hermon, who was surprised rather than alarmed by
this betrayal of his secret. "If you want confirmation of the fact, very
well--both were here."
"Because you deluded them with false vows of love."
"By no means. My heart has nothing what ever to do with these visits.
Gula came to thank me because I rendered her a service--you know it--
which to every mother seems greater than it is."
"But you certainly did not underestimate it," Ledscha impetuously
interrupted, "for you demanded her honour in return."
"Guard your tongue!" the artist burst forth angrily. "The woman visited
me unasked, and I let her leave me as faithful or as unfaithful to her
husband as she came. If I used her as a model--"
"Gula, whom the sculptor transforms into a goddess," Ledscha interrupted,
with a sneering laugh.
"Into a fish-seller, if you wish to know it," cried Hermon indignantly.
"I saw in the market a young woman selling shad. I took the subject, and
found in Gula a suitable model. Unfortunately, she ventured here far too
seldom. But I can finish it with the help of the sketch--it stands in
yonder cupboard."
"A fish-seller," Ledscha repeated contemptuously. "And for what did my
Taus, poor lovely child, seem desirable?"
"Over opposite," Hermon answered quickly, as if he wished to get rid of
a troublesome duty, pointing through the window out of doors, "the free
maidens, during the hot days, took off their sandals and waded through
the water. There I saw your sister's feet. They were the prettiest of
all, and Gula brought the young girl to me. I had commenced in
Alexandria a figure of a girl holding her foot in her hand to take out a
thorn, so I used your sister's for it."
"And when my turn comes?" Ledscha demanded.
"Then," he replied, freshly captivated by the magic of her beauty, in a
kinder, almost tender tone, "then I will make of you, in gold and ivory,
you wonderfully lovely creature, the counterpart of this goddess."
"And you will need a long time for it?"
"The oftener you come the faster the work will advance."
"And the more surely the Biamite women will point their fingers at me."
"Yet you ventured here to-day, unasked, in the broad light of noon."
"Because I wish to remind you myself that I shall expect you this
evening. Yesterday you did not appear; but to-day-I am right, am I not?
--to-day you will come."
"With the greatest delight, if it is possible," he answered eagerly.
A warmer glance from her dark eyes rested upon him. The blood seethed in
his veins, and as he extended both hands to her and ardently uttered her
name, she rushed forward, clinging to him with passionate devotion, as if
seeking assistance, but when his lips touched hers she shrank back and
loosed her soft arms from his neck.
"What does this mean?" asked the sculptor in surprise, trying to draw her
toward him again; but Ledscha would not permit it, pleading in a softer
tone than before: "Not now; but--am I not right, dearest--I may expect
you this evening? Just this once let the daughter of Archias yield to
me, who loves you better. We shall have a full moon to-night, and you
have heard what was predicted to me--to-night the highest bliss which the
gods can bestow upon a mortal awaits me."
And me also," cried Hermon, "if you will permit me to share it with you."
"Then I will expect you on the Pelican Island--just when the full moon is
over the lofty poplars there. You will come? Not to the Owl's Nest: to
the Pelican Island. And though your love is far less, far cooler than
mine, yet you will not defraud me of the best happiness of my life?"
"How could I?" he asked, as if he felt wounded by such distrust.
"What detains me must be something absolutely unavoidable."
Ledscha's eyebrows contracted sharply, and in a choked voice she
exclaimed: "Nothing must detain you--nothing, whatever it may be!
Though death should threaten, you will be with me just at midnight."
"I will, if it is possible," he protested, painfully touched by the
vehemence of her urging. "What can be more welcome to me also than to
spend happy hours with you in the silence of a moonlight night? Besides,
my stay in Tennis will not be long."
"You are going?" she asked in a hollow tone.
"In three or four days," he answered carelessly; "then Myrtilus and
I will be expected in Alexandria. But gently--gently--how pale you are,
girl! Yes, the parting! But in six weeks at latest I shall be here
again; then real life will first begin, and Eros will make the roses
bloom for us."
Ledscha nodded silently, and gazing into his face with a searching look
asked, "And how long will this season of blossoming last?"
"Several months, girl; three, if not six."
"And then?"
"Who looks so far into the future?"
She lowered her glance, and, as if yielding to the inevitable, answered:
"What a fool I was! Who knows what the morrow may bring? Are we even
sure whether, six months hence, we shall not hate, instead of loving,
each other?"
She passed her hand across her brow as she spoke, exclaiming: "You said
just now that only the present belonged to man. Then let us enjoy it as
though every moment might be the last. By the light of the full moon
to-night, the happiness which has been predicted to me must begin. After
it, the orb between the horns of Astarte will become smaller; but when it
fulls and wanes again, if you keep your promise and return, then, though
they may curse and condemn me, I will come to your studio and grant what
you ask. But which of the goddesses do you intend to model from me as a
companion statue to the Demeter?"
"This time it can not be one of the immortelles," he answered
hesitatingly, "but a famous woman, an artist who succeeded in
a competition in vanquishing even the august Athene."
"So it is no goddess?" Ledscha asked in a disappointed tone.
"No, child, but the most skilful woman who ever plied the weaver's
shuttle."
"And her name?"
"Arachne."
The young girl started, exclaiming contemptuously: "Arachne? That is--
that is what you Greeks call the most repulsive of creatures--the
spider."
"The most skilful of all creatures, that taught man the noble art of
weaving," he eagerly retorted.
Here he was interrupted; his friend Myrtilus put his fair head into the
room, exclaiming: "Pardon me if I interrupt you--but we shall not see
each other again for some time. I have important business in the city,
and may be detained a long while. Yet before I go I must perform the
commission Daphne gave me for you. She sends word that she shall expect
you without fail at the banquet for the Pelusinian guests. Your absence,
do you hear?--pardon the interruption, fairest Ledscha--your absence
would seriously anger her."
"Then I shall be prepared for considerable trouble in appeasing her,"
replied Hermon, glancing significantly at the young girl.
Myrtilus crossed the threshold, turned to the Biamite, and said in his
quiet, cheerful manner: "Where beautiful gifts are to be brought to Eros,
it beseems the friend to strew with flowers the path of the one who is
offering the sacrifices; and you, if everything does not deceive me,
would fain choose to-night to serve him with the utmost devotion.
Therefore, I shall need forgiveness from you and the god, if I beseech
you to defer the offering, were it only until to-morrow."
Ledscha silently shrugged her shoulders and made no answer to the
inquiring glance with which Hermon sought hers, but Myrtilus changed his
tone and addressed a grave warning to his friend to consider well that it
would be an insult to the manes of his dead parents if he should avoid
the old couple from Pelusium, who had been their best friends and had
taken the journey hither for his sake.
Hermon looked after him in painful perplexity, but the Biamite also
approached the threshold, and holding her head haughtily erect, said
coldly: "The choice is difficult for you, as I see. Then recall to your
memory again what this night of the full moon means--you are well aware
of it--to me. If, nevertheless, you still decide in favour of the
banquet with your friends, I can not help it; but I must now know:
Shall this night belong to me, or to the daughter of Archias?"
"Is it impossible to talk with you, unlucky girl, as one would with other
sensible people?" Hermon burst forth wrathfully. "Everything is carried
to extremes; you condemn a brief necessary delay as breach of faith and
base treachery. This behaviour is unbearable."
"Then you will not come?" she asked apathetically, laying her hand upon
the door; but Hermon cried out in a tone half beseeching, half imperious:
"You must not go so! If you insist upon it, surely I will come. There
is no room in your obstinate soul for kind indulgence. No one, by the
dog, ever accused me of being specially skilled in this smooth art; yet
there may be duties and circumstances--"
Here Ledscha gently opened the door; but, seized with a fear of losing
this rare creature, whose singular beauty attracted him powerfully, even
now, this peerless model for a work on which he placed the highest hopes,
he strode swiftly to her side, and drawing her back from the threshold,
exclaimed: "Difficult as it is for me on this special day, I will come,
only you must not demand what is impossible. The right course often lies
midway. Half the night must belong to the banquet with my old friends
and Daphne; the second half--"
"To the barbarian, you think--the spider," she gasped hoarsely. "But my
welfare as well as yours depends on the decision. Stay here, or come to
the island--you have your choice."
Wrenching herself from his hold as she spoke, she slipped through the
doorway and left the room.
Hermon, with a muttered oath, stood still, shrugging his shoulders
angrily.
He could do nothing but yield to this obstinate creature's will.
In the atrium Ledscha met the slave Bias, and returned his greeting only
by a wave of the hand; but before opening the side door which was to lead
her into the open air, she paused, and asked bluntly in the language of
their people: "Was Arachne--I don't mean the spider, but the weaver whom
the Greeks call by that name--a woman like the rest of us? Yet it is
said that she remained victor in a contest with the goddess Athene."
"That is perfectly true," answered Bias, "but she had to atone cruelly
for this triumph; the goddess struck her on the forehead with the
weaver's shuttle, and when, in her shame and rage, she tried to hang
herself, she was transformed into the spider."
Ledscha stood still, and, while drawing the veil over her pallid face,
asked with quivering lips, "And is there no other Arachne?"
"Not among mortals," was the reply, "but even here in this house there
are more than enough of the disagreeable, creeping creatures which bear
the same name."
Ledscha now went clown the steps which led to the lawn, and Bias saw that
she stumbled on the last one and would have fallen had not her lithe body
regained its balance in time.
"A bad omen!" thought the slave. "If I had the power to build a wall
between my master and the spider yonder, it should be higher than the
lighthouse of Sostratus. To heed omens guides one safely through life.
I know what I know, and will keep my eyes open, for my master too."