,/INDROS 
 
 I EPHESUS 
 
 JLE.COPUS
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OH 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 DIEGO
 
 ANDROS OF EPHESUS 
 
 A Tale of Early Christianity 
 
 BY THE 
 REV. J. E. COPUS, S. J. 
 
 Author of 
 
 The Son of Siro, A Story of Lazarus," "Harry Russell," 
 
 "St. Cuthbert's,"" Shadows Lifted," "Tom 
 
 Losely: Boy," "The Mating of 
 
 Mart lake," "As Gold 
 
 in the Furnace >" 
 
 Etc., Etc. 
 
 THE M. H. WILTZIUS CO. 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 MILWAUKEE NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1910. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE M. H. WILTZIUS COMPANY
 
 To 
 
 THE MOST REVEREND 
 JAMES EDWARD QUIGLEY, D. D. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF CHICAGO, 
 
 WHOSE APPROBATION HAS EVER BEEN AN 
 
 INSPIRATION, THIS VOLUME is 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR
 
 AMONG DIANA'S FOLK 11 
 
 of Ephesus, he felt a glow of national pride 
 that the place of his birth possessed one of 
 the wonders of the world. 
 
 Had one been near him and watched his 
 face closely, however, on this particular 
 afternoon, there might have been discovered 
 indications of trouble, as shown in the sad- 
 ness of the eyes and in the lines about the 
 mouth. Strange and disquieting thoughts 
 had recently entered the mind of Andros, 
 the Ephesian, concerning the worship of 
 Diana thoughts that he could not under- 
 stand and difficulties which he was unable 
 to solve. 
 
 So general was the cultus of the great 
 goddess that he was aware that he could not 
 with safety confide his difficulties even to 
 his nearest friend, yet they were real and 
 tangible to him, and startling because of 
 their newness and for the persistency with 
 which they appeared to demand considera- 
 tion. He was much disquieted. He re- 
 mained stationary for a long time, his gaze 
 fixed upon the temple, while his active mind 
 was busy with the problems that had pre- 
 sented themselves. 
 
 At last he realized that the sun was about 
 to drop behind the western clouds. Arous- 
 ing himself from his revery with an impa- 
 tient shrug of the shoulders, he turned and 
 walked down the narrow path of the south- 
 ern slope of Mount Coressus until he came 
 to the substantial farmhouse of one of his
 
 12 AMONG DIANA'S FOLK 
 
 tenants. He was surprised and not un- 
 pleased to find that several of the neighbor- 
 ing vine-growers had gathered under the 
 modest portico to spend the evening in rest 
 and conversation and in the enjoyment of 
 each other's company. He welcomed the 
 gathering as a distraction from his own too 
 exacting thoughts. 
 
 "Hail, friend! may the great goddess be 
 kind to all," said Andros, as he approached. 
 
 "Thou art kind, good Andros; may the 
 great Diana prosper thy vines, for thy rent 
 will be in proportion to their yield," an- 
 swered a man about fifty years of age. He 
 was florid of face and appeared to be a good 
 patron of his own wine vats. 
 
 When Andros had saluted all his friends 
 and had taken his seat among them, the 
 conversation which his coming had inter- 
 rupted was resumed. 
 
 "Hast heard the news, friend Andros?" 
 inquired the red-faced speaker. 
 
 "That there will be no Artemision festivi- 
 ties next spring?" said Andros facetiously. 
 
 Every one knew that the cessation of the 
 games and procession in honor of Diana and 
 the glory of Ephesus was among the last of 
 improbabilities. All laughed at the sally of 
 humor. 
 
 "No, good Callinus," continued Andros, 
 "I have heard nought. Keep me not in 
 suspense. Is the divine emperor dead?" 
 
 "Not far from the southern fountain,"
 
 AMONG DIANA'S FOLK 13 
 
 answered the one addressed, "down on the 
 level land outside the city wall, have come 
 to dwell a strange company of men and 
 women. Thou dost remember that since old 
 Pelopidas lost his house and vine lands be- 
 cause of his too great love for the dice-box, 
 and for being too good a customer at the 
 taverns he supplied with wine thou dost 
 remember that his house has been unoc- 
 cupied since that time?" 
 
 "I am aware that the house has been 
 empty for several months," said Andros. 
 
 "A company of men and women have 
 come to live there. They are mysterious 
 beings, for they go to none of the temples, 
 and are never seen in the courts or grove 
 of Diana." 
 
 "That is not so wonderful," remarked 
 Andros. "Remember, friend, that there are 
 eighteen other temples erected to the differ- 
 ent gods within the walls of Ephesus. It 
 may be they worship in one of these." 
 
 "Not so," said Aratus, another of the com- 
 pany, who appeared to bear no particular 
 good-will towards Andros ; "not so, for they 
 go to none of these temples. I have watched 
 them and know. Your surmise is not 
 correct." 
 
 "Perhaps you can inform us who they are 
 and what they are doing," said Andros, just 
 a little nettled. 
 
 "Twice have I passed their house," con- 
 tinued Aratus, "and heard singing. I en-
 
 14 AMONG DIANA'S FOLK 
 
 deavored to catch the words, but could not 
 make much of them. I am sure they cannot 
 be in honor of Diana." 
 
 "Thou art probably correct/' said Andros; 
 "the worship of Diana does not consist in 
 singing, as thou knowest, but rather in 
 dancing and in processions." 
 
 "That is true," interrupted Callinus. 
 "Nothing in the world equals our ritual pro- 
 cessions. Wonderful is Diana of Ephesus, 
 the mother of the gods !" , 
 
 "They are a quiet company," continued 
 Aratus, "and come from no one knows 
 where. The women are introducing a 
 strange custom here, for they generally go 
 veiled." 
 
 "Perhaps they are Jews," suggested one 
 of the company. "Thou knowest there are 
 many wealthy Jews of Syria living at Ephe- 
 sus. It may be that these are some less 
 wealthy people of the same nation." 
 
 "The men are quiet and unassuming," 
 continued Aratus, "and appear to be refined 
 and sociable. They talk intelligently about 
 vine-growing and appear to possess skill in 
 wine-making. I saw one man with a large 
 basket today, and he was selecting the 
 choicest clusters in the vineyard. When 
 urged to tell why he did this, he changed the 
 subject of our conversation gracefully 
 enough I grant and spoke about the fer- 
 tility of the soil and the beauty of the 
 merges."
 
 AMONG DIANA'S FOLK 15 
 
 "Are the women beautiful?" enquired 
 Callinus. "If they are, and the men are as 
 sociable as Aratus declares, 'twould be 
 worth while visiting them, and then we 
 could learn more about them." 
 
 The project of visiting the new settlers 
 in the neighborhood appeared to meet with 
 general approval, and it was decided that a 
 visit should soon be made. They had for- 
 gotten that the grape harvest was to begin 
 on the following day. The visit was long 
 delayed, and before the wine pressing was 
 finished was forgotten by most of those who 
 had agreed to make it.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 
 
 After the neighbors had departed from 
 the portico, Andros sat a long time in the 
 moonlight pondering the thoughts that had 
 lately come to him. He was of a more 
 thoughtful disposition than most of his 
 countrymen. Greek by descent, he had in- 
 herited the keenness of intellect of that race, 
 and he wanted to see the reason of things. 
 Traditional beliefs did not appeal to him 
 merely because they had been handed down 
 to him by his forefathers. 
 
 At this time there was a restlessness in 
 his soul, the cause of which he could ill de- 
 fine. Questions had arisen which he could 
 not solve. He would have repudiated with 
 indignant scorn any thought of infidelity to 
 the goddess of his birthplace. To him 
 Diana was supreme, and the influence of her 
 cultus entered into his life in a larger way 
 than was customary with most young men 
 of his time. 
 
 Splendidly muscular and in good physical 
 condition, it was impossible to attribute his 
 unsatisfactory mental state to some ap- 
 proaching sickness. He laughed at this 
 thought when he looked at the knots of 
 
 16
 
 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 17 
 
 muscles on his bare arms, or felt them work- 
 ing across his shoulders as he exercised him- 
 self. There was nothing wrong with his 
 nerves, but there was an uneasiness of mind 
 a something within him which craved sat- 
 isfaction and he knew not how or where 
 to get the relief he sought. 
 
 Andros, at the present time, had not suc- 
 ceeded in denning to himself the cause of 
 his uneasiness. Being in perfect health, and 
 living much in the open air, he was not one 
 given to morbid introspection, yet he was 
 aware that the gratification of mere animal 
 excitement of the great spectacles, or the 
 wild music of the ritual processions, or the 
 athletic games with which the feasts of 
 Diana were celebrated, were not sufficient, 
 or of a kind to satisfy the unrest in his soul. 
 For a time he had mounted to a higher intel- 
 lectual plane and had taken pleasure in 
 poetry, and in the philosophical discussions 
 which were held in the amphitheatre during 
 the Artemision festival, and even at other 
 times of the year. But all these had at 
 length palled, and there remained the unrest 
 for which he could give no account. 
 
 He was sufficiently keen of mind to realize 
 that the present method of worshipping the 
 goddess, with all its exuberance and orgi- 
 astic tendencies and practices, was, and of 
 necessity must be, a degeneration from what 
 he conceived must have been the simplicity 
 of her original worship. He could not
 
 18 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 
 
 bring himself to believe that unbridled in- 
 temperance did honor to a deity, and yet he 
 saw this was the common practice among 
 the votaries of Diana in Ephesus and 
 throughout Lydia. The instincts of his nat- 
 urally upright mind revolted at the ex- 
 cesses of the times. After a long series of 
 excogitations he became convinced that 
 these practices, which had grown up around 
 the worship of Diana as the mother of all 
 living, or as Hecate, the ruler of hell, or as 
 Luna, the ever-changeable one, were ex- 
 cesses and not originally intended or prac- 
 ticed. His naturally correct instinct re- 
 belled, and yet he was at a loss how to seek 
 a better way to satisfy the cravings of his 
 soul, or to change the present method of 
 his worship. 
 
 He knew full well what his fate would be 
 were he bold enough to deny the divinity of 
 the Ephesian goddess. He had no intention 
 of doing this. He knew that at the next 
 festival of Diana he would shout as loud as 
 the rest, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians." 
 He took a natural pride in her worship, yet 
 of late there seemed to be something in this 
 very worship that repelled him. 
 
 Many customs were distasteful to him. 
 Among others, he realized that that of sanc- 
 tuary had grown into a national abuse. He 
 saw that this custom drew together to 
 Ephesus all the worst criminals even from 
 as far away as Pontus and Syria and Egypt,
 
 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 19 
 
 from Macedonia and far-off Gaul. He was 
 aware that it was a custom in all the great 
 temples throughout the world, but, looking 
 at the abuse of the privilege as he saw it in 
 his own city, and being impressed with the 
 dark side of the picture only, he failed to 
 see its value. 
 
 There were many other things that puz- 
 zled him. Why were such immoral men as 
 the priests of Diana were known to be 
 chosen or allowed to minister at her altars? 
 It puzzled him that the worship of the god- 
 dess always took the form of spectacles or 
 games, and was always followed by debauch- 
 ery rather than supplication. How could the 
 daughter of Jupiter and Latona be pleased 
 with such a perverted worship? 
 
 "At all events," he mused, alone in the 
 beautiful moonlight, "the great Diana re- 
 ceives true worship, for are not flowers, 
 fruits and even animals sacrificed to her? 
 Yes, we have the true notion of worship, for 
 something is destroyed in sacrifice to show 
 the deity's supreme dominion. But oh! is 
 Diana a real being after all? Is she not 
 merely an abstraction, some broken frag- 
 ment of a thought, as it were, rendered con- 
 crete in her images and in her temples, to 
 hold the vulgar mind? Supposing she be 
 merely that and nothing more an abstract 
 idea is it worthy of the mind of man to give 
 worship and adoration to something so in- 
 tangible? There must be something greater
 
 20 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 
 
 and more substantial behind all this. Oh, if 
 I could only get at the truth! Would that 
 some great teacher would arise to purge 
 the worship of the huntress goddess of the 
 accretions of the ages! Would that some 
 great philosopher would come and restore 
 our pristine worship, and with it our pristine 
 virtues! There must be a truer, higher wor- 
 ship than that which we see all around us. 
 Would that I could fathom the mystery!" 
 
 These and similar thoughts passed through 
 the young man's mind, injecting into it a 
 jumble of ideas which he was unable to ex- 
 plain or set in order. 
 
 Andros was not morbid. His physical 
 condition was too excellent for him to suffer 
 this disease of weaklings. Yet at times he 
 was sorely perplexed at life's puzzles, al- 
 though he enjoyed the good things of the 
 world with the zest of youth. He was not 
 yet thirty years old. He had inherited his 
 father's not inconsiderable fortune, consist- 
 ing of the large vineyard on the southern 
 slope of Coressus, two or three large houses 
 within the city walls and several sailing ves- 
 sels which carried on a lucrative trade be- 
 tween Ephesus and the islands of the Aegean 
 sea. Some of the larger vessels sailed to At- 
 talia in Pampylia, Paphos in Cyprus, Caesa- 
 rea, and even to Alexandria. He also held 
 the privilege, inherited from his father and 
 confirmed to him by the Chancellor of the 
 city, of taking fish from the great Silenusian
 
 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 21 
 
 lakes in the north. These fish were sold daily 
 in the agora venalis at a great profit, for the 
 Ephesians were a luxury-loving people, and 
 the product of these fresh-water lakes was 
 regarded as a great delicacy. 
 
 The father of Andros had left these vari- 
 ous sources of wealth in the hands of good 
 stewards. The young man, therefore, had 
 little to do but to receive the profits and daily 
 add gold to his coffers. Of a naturally up- 
 right character, Andros had not let his new- 
 ly acquired wealth turn his head. He con- 
 tinued to live a clean life and was much out- 
 of-doors, and was a fair specimen of stalwart 
 manhood. 
 
 He was not tall the Ephesians were in 
 general of shorter stature than their Roman 
 subjugators. He was about five feet nine 
 inches in height. He ordinarily wore the 
 prevailing costume of the people of Asia Mi- 
 nor a vest with long tight sleeves reaching 
 to the wrists, long pantaloons descending to 
 the ankles and ornamented with a colored 
 zigzag pattern. Over the vest was a wide 
 sleeveless tunic, clasped on the shoulder and 
 confined at the waist by a girdle, and when 
 long gathered up by another girdle lower 
 down. His hair, black as night, was rather 
 long and fell nearly to his shoulders from be- 
 neath the ordinary Phrygian cap, made of 
 soft white wool and rising to a point which 
 projected forward. 
 
 The eyes of Andros were his prominent
 
 22 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 
 
 feature. They were large and lustrous and 
 of a dark blue. A high, broad, exceedingly 
 white forehead appeared whiter in contrast 
 with the heavy, straight black eyebrows 
 which almost touched in the middle. The 
 nose was straight and purely Grecian, in- 
 dicating his Hellenic descent. The color of 
 health shone on his cheek-bones and on his 
 lips, which were firm. The jaw was large 
 and its contour denoted strong determina- 
 tion. The whole countenance was that of a 
 thoughtful man. There was something 
 masterful in all his actions.; in the decision of 
 his tones, .and in the sturdy swing of limbs 
 as he walked. One would designate him a 
 man whom it would be dangerous to antag- 
 onize, yet who could and would be a lov- 
 ing friend. 
 
 The evening when the story opens Andros 
 sat long under the portico of his tenant's villa 
 in the vineyard, trying to puzzle out the 
 questions which had tortured him more per- 
 sistently than ever of late. 
 
 "Ah! I know what I will do," he said to 
 himself at the end of his cogitations. "To- 
 morrow I will go out beyond the stadium 
 and I will talk to Lydda. She is more 
 clever than I. Perhaps she will be able to 
 explain some of the difficulties that beset me. 
 Oh ! Lydda ! Lydda !" he exclaimed passion- 
 ately, "if thou but knew of the flames burn- 
 ing in my heart for thee ! How long must I 
 wait thy timid bashfulness before I dare ask
 
 IN THE GRIP OF DOUBT 23 
 
 thee to be mine! O great Artemis! cure a 
 lover's pangs ! At least to-morrow I go not 
 as a lover, but as a searcher after knowl- 
 edge."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 A MAID OF EPHESUS 
 
 The marble villa of Mellanides shone with 
 such brilliancy in the morning sun as to be 
 almost blinding. Built on an eminence and 
 surrounded on three sides by the windings 
 of the river Caystrus, near to the sacred and 
 luxuriant grove of Diana, it was regarded as 
 the most elegant residence in the city of 
 Ephesus. It was situated over a mile away 
 from the northern city gate and was some 
 distance from the main travelled road to Sar- 
 dis and Smyrna. It was secluded and was 
 rarely visited by travellers passing through 
 Ephesus, although the citizens considered it 
 as one of their glories. Along the road lead- 
 ing to it, which was in a way an imitation of 
 the Roman Via Appia, there were many 
 other mansions, but none approached that of 
 Mellanides in stateliness or in the magnifi- 
 cence of its furnishings. 
 
 Nearly every known country in the world 
 had been laid under contribution to gratify 
 the taste or the luxury of the family whose 
 proud possession it was. The rarest of pic- 
 tures, Greek statuary, rugs, carpets and 
 choicest tapestries were found there in pro- 
 fusion. The friends of Mellanides and he 
 
 24
 
 A MAID OF EPHESUS 25 
 
 had many, for in his prime he had been an 
 elaborate entertainer had prophesied to 
 him that it was only a matter of time when 
 the priests and priestesses would take pos- 
 session of the house and convert it into a 
 temple in honor of Diana Luna, which was 
 about the only title under which the goddess 
 had no temple dedicated to her in Ephesus. 
 
 Old Mellanides was choleric when the sub- 
 ject was mentioned. He often took the re- 
 marks of his friends more seriously than 
 they intended he should. He was deter- 
 mined never to give up his house. When the 
 subject was mentioned in his hearing he 
 would wind his toga closely around his body, 
 walk the length of the peristyle two or three 
 times, as if working his anger up to the point 
 of speech, and begin: 
 
 "Never, never, friends! I am a faithful 
 worshipper of the chaste huntress, as all 
 good Ephesians should be, but they shall 
 never take my villa from me. When I die, 
 it goes intact to my Lydda. I have not 
 served the emperor for nought, nor did my 
 father serve him in his legions to be forgot- 
 ten. Let the chief priestess or any of those 
 rascally priests set foot here, and I will on 
 the instant be off to Rome! No, friends, 
 they dare not molest the emperor's friend." 
 
 "And while you are gone they will take 
 possession, and spirit away your daughter," 
 some one would remark, more for the sake 
 of teasing than belief in his own words.
 
 26 A MAID OF EPHESUS 
 
 "Woe betide them should they attempt 
 the one or the other. The imperial ruler of 
 the world would send a legion for my safety 
 if necessary. I tell thee, I am near the 
 throne. I am a friend of the emperor." 
 
 Whether the facts were as Mellanides 
 stated, or his words were the product of an 
 overfond and loyal imagination, it would be 
 difficult to decide. They had the effect, how- 
 ever, of keeping the old soldier happy. 
 
 On the morning following the long ex- 
 cogitation of Andros, Lydda sat in the shade 
 of the marble pillars of the peristyle of her 
 father's villa. She was surrounded by a 
 number of serving maids, whose duty it was 
 to attend to her slightest wish. Seated on 
 a marble bench piled high with cushions and 
 over the back of which she had thrown her 
 crimson peplum, or cloak, she held in her 
 hands a large bunch of red roses which con- 
 trasted strongly with her simple white Gre- 
 cian costume. Roses lay scattered around 
 her feet, and on the steps that led down to 
 the impluvium, or large tank of water in the 
 open court of the house. Some red blossoms 
 had fallen into the water and lay floating 
 like great drops of blood on the quiet sur- 
 face. Two white swans moved lazily about 
 in the water. On the farther low wall of the 
 impluvium were two metallic-hued peacocks, 
 one of which had spread his gorgeous tail 
 feathers as if for the delectation of his mis- 
 tress. In the centre of the impluvium was
 
 A MAID OF EPHESUS 27 
 
 a marble group representing Aphrodite ris- 
 ing from the sea, attended by nymphs. 
 
 In strong contrast to the marble walls and 
 pillars were, here and there, ebony hued Nu- 
 bian slaves, whose brass bands on the upper 
 arm and on the wrist shone and glistened in 
 the sun. The whiteness of the low parapet 
 around the body of water was relieved by 
 richly wrought brass vases filled with cut 
 flowers of brilliant colors and delicate per- 
 fume, or with boxes of rare plants. 
 
 Ever and anon, in the pursuit of the busi- 
 ness of his office, would appear from the 
 atrium or from one or other of the domestic 
 offices, the steward of the palace, clad in a 
 long robe of many gorgeous colors and bear- 
 ing a wand. Although he did not approach 
 Lydda, he kept himself well within sight and 
 call in case he should be required for any ser- 
 vice by the mistress of the household. 
 
 The scene was one of refined beauty in its 
 wealth of color contrasts. A gentle breeze 
 suddenly stirred the waters of the impluvium 
 and wafted the roses here and there, making 
 little moving islands of crimson. 
 
 Lydda remained seated on the marble 
 bench while her handmaidens, in pink, and 
 pale blue, and light orange robes, busied 
 themselves with making festoons. They un- 
 consciously grouped themselves in artistic 
 poses about her. Suddenly the steward 
 made a hurried entrance from the atrium
 
 28 A MAID OF EPHESUS 
 
 and approached his mistress as if he would 
 speak. 
 
 "What is it, Cassus?" 
 
 "Most gracious lady," said the steward, 
 "there has just arrived from beyond Mount 
 Coressus the young Andros, who craves to 
 be admitted to thy presence." 
 
 "Admit him." 
 
 The steward bowed low and retired. Wo- 
 manlike, the mistress of the house instinc- 
 tively put her hands to her hair to satisfy 
 herself that the Grecian coil was in perfect 
 condition. One of the handmaids threw a 
 light, gauzy peplum of delicate lavender 
 color around her shoulders. 
 
 Lydda arose when Andros appeared at the 
 entrance of the open court. 
 
 "Welcome, my friend. Thou art early 
 abroad," she said, as she stretched forth her 
 long slender arm. Andros touched the taper- 
 ing ringers to his lips. Had she been a god- 
 dess he could not have shown her more rev- 
 erence. He was sure of just the welcome 
 he had received that of a friend, but 
 nothing more. He would have given half 
 his wealth to have been able to notice a little 
 embarrassment in her, a little twitching of 
 the lips, or fluttering of the eyelids, or a 
 slightly heightened color. No sign of an 
 emotional movement was visible. He sighed, 
 and more vehemently than he was aware of. 
 
 "Art in trouble, Andros?" asked Lydda, 
 as she resumed her seat on the cushioned
 
 A MAID OF EPHESUS 29 
 
 bench, "Come, sit beside me, and it may hap- 
 pen that I may be of assistance. Come." 
 
 They sat together. At a given signal from 
 their mistress the attendants withdrew to 
 the corners of the open court, where they 
 could easily be beckoned to should their 
 services be required, but could not hear what 
 was spoken. 
 
 "Now, good friend, tell me thy trouble," 
 said Lydda. 
 
 "'Tis naught, fair lady, but what I hope 
 will be cured in time." 
 
 "But men do not sigh for trifles." 
 
 "Nor was it a trifle, Lydda, for which I 
 sighed." 
 
 Although Andros had known Lydda from 
 early years, and their families had been fast 
 friends, he had never, as yet, allowed himself 
 to appear formally as the lover of Lydda. 
 He took advantage of their early acquaint- 
 anceship to be frequently in her company, 
 and each time he visited her and old Mel- 
 lanides more fuel was added to the fire of his 
 unspoken love. He knew that she was vast- 
 ly his superior in point of wealth as the 
 heiress and only child of the old soldier, and 
 yet he was conscious that his own daily in- 
 creasing fortune was already of no small 
 proportions. It was not the disparity of the 
 goods of fortune that made him hesitate. 
 
 He was aware that there were more pro- 
 spective suitors than himself for the hand 
 of Lydda. He knew, at least from hearsay,
 
 30 A MAID OF EPHESUS 
 
 that Metellus, the pro-consul, desired her 
 hand for his son who was in Rome. He was 
 aware also that Aratus, although not nearly 
 as wealthy as himself possessing only a 
 fine vineyard on the southern side of Cores- 
 sus aspired to be considered a suitor. The 
 real cause of his own reticence was that he 
 was so deeply enamored of the charms of 
 the playmate of former years since she had 
 grown to womanhood that he actually feared 
 to venture and lose. 
 
 "There are many things in my mind which 
 are puzzling me," he continued, "and I have 
 come to my childhood's friend to see whether 
 she cannot assist me to solve some of the 
 riddles." 
 
 The daughter of Mellanides remained 
 silent, expecting Andros to continue. In- 
 stead of proceeding, he sat with his hand 
 under his chin and his elbow resting on his 
 knee, watching the drifting roses in the 
 water of the impluvium. 
 
 "We are like those flowers," he said at 
 length, "blown hither and thither by the 
 breezes of circumstance. It cannot be, dear 
 Lydda, that a man's life and his hereafter are 
 dependent on the mere chances of fate. My 
 reason revolts at such a thought, and yet 
 and yet " 
 
 He paused, as if unable to put the thoughts 
 that had been so recently disturbing him so 
 much into suitable words. 
 
 "Thou feelest as I do, Andros," said the
 
 A MAID OF EPHESUS 31 
 
 maiden at his side, "nor can I assent to the 
 national and universal mode of worship of 
 the great Diana. Why call her the chaste 
 goddess if her worship consists mainly of 
 things neither chaste nor temperate? If 
 Diana dwells among the Immortals in the 
 heavens, it seems to me that she cannot de- 
 light in the orgies indulged in here on the 
 earth on the occasion of her festivals." 
 
 "Thou art ever more clever than I. Thou 
 puttest my thoughts into words. There 
 must be something wrong, as thou sayest. 
 Oh! that I could see wherein to change it 
 all!" 
 
 "And in the attempt get thyself torn to 
 pieces by an angry populace? No, friend 
 Andros, thou shalt not attempt so dangerous 
 a task." 
 
 "I care not for the danger, Lydda, if I knew 
 what to do, and what to believe." 
 
 "Of this be sure," said Lydda, leaning to- 
 wards him in her earnestness, "if this re- 
 ligion of Diana be wrong " 
 
 "Oh, say not so! I would not for the 
 world unsettle thy faith in the great god- 
 dess !" exclaimed Andros. 
 
 He was of too loyal a nature to disturb 
 the faith of Lydda on account of the difficul- 
 ties he found in it for himself. For an instant 
 he saw the dreary horrors of the quagmire of 
 absolute infidelity, and realized as never be- 
 fore how necessary a belief of some kind is to 
 every human being.
 
 32 A MAID OF EPHESUS 
 
 "Be not afraid," said Lydda, to his relief, 
 "that I am about to forsake the faith of my 
 ancestors, and our people's glory. What I 
 mean is this: if the worship of Diana be 
 wrong, time will reform it. The gross and 
 the evil in it will slip away." 
 
 "I fear you are mistaken. It has grown 
 worse and more gross and sensual with the 
 ages. The very beginning of the worship 
 was frenzy. You know, Lydda, that the 
 statue now in the principal shrine of the 
 temple, so tradition tells us, is supposed to 
 have fallen from heaven. Its discoverers went 
 mad, and those who placed it in the first rude 
 temple became insane and slew each other at 
 the altar." 
 
 "Oh, but such things cannot be the inten- 
 tion of the goddess!" exclaimed Lydda. 
 
 "They have existed, nevertheless, as long 
 as there has been a worship of the mother of 
 the gods," replied Andros. "Murder and 
 bloodshed have always been a part of her 
 ritual. 'Tis all a mystery. I will consult 
 Cleomenes, the Athenian philosopher, who 
 has lately come to Ephesus, when next I see 
 him. He will certainly be able to explain to 
 us much that is at present dark and difficult 
 to understand." 
 
 "Ah, do so, my good friend, and bring me 
 word. Thou art not more interested in 
 the answers he shall give than I. Wilt thou 
 walk, Andros, to the rose-garden?" 
 
 They prepared to go out to the rose-
 
 A MAID OF EPHESUS 33 
 
 garden, but further conversation on the sub- 
 ject that interested them so deeply was inter- 
 rupted by the appearance of Mellanides. He 
 was somewhat garrulous in his advanced 
 years. He always regarded Andros as an old 
 friend of the family and did not stand on cer- 
 emony with him. 
 
 "Welcome, welcome, boy," he said heart- 
 ily, as soon as he caught sight of him. 
 "Come, and I will show thee my late roses 
 and my grapes. Hast harvested thine own 
 grapes yet, Andros ? Farewell, daughter, for 
 a short time. We will return before the 
 noonday meal." 
 
 "No, no," replied Lydda, "I will come with 
 you. I want to see the last of the roses." 
 
 "Thou always hast thine own way. Come, 
 then," said the old father, fondly.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 ARATUS BEGINS HIS PLOTTING 
 
 The autumn and winter passed and An- 
 dros found himself still perplexed and no 
 nearer to a solution of his difficulties. The 
 incongruities of the cultus of Diana appeared 
 to him even greater than ever. He was re- 
 ligious by nature, and the cravings of his 
 soul remained unsatisfied. For him the 
 void could not be rilled by indulging in in- 
 temperance or in grosser crimes. 
 
 He had often discussed his difficulties with 
 Cleomenes, the Athenian philosopher, but 
 without receiving any satisfaction. The sage 
 was pretentious but shallow, and Andros ob- 
 tained very little assistance from him. Find- 
 ing that he received no benefit whatever 
 from his platitudes, he finally ceased to visit 
 him, and was again thrown upon his own 
 resources. 
 
 Nor had the frequent discussions with 
 Lydda helped him. These had only in- 
 creased his difficulties, for he saw with grow- 
 ing alarm that the woman he so devotedly 
 loved was becoming at least he thought she 
 was unsettled in her own belief. Whatever 
 difficulties it might be his misfortune to 
 
 34
 
 ARATUS' PLOTTING 35 
 
 encounter, whatever mental tortures he 
 might be compelled to undergo, he was de- 
 termined, if possible, to keep Lydda firm in 
 her belief in the divinity of the goddess. He 
 fully realized that some belief in a higher 
 power was a woman's only safeguard. 
 
 He saw with a perspicacity which was, per- 
 haps, unusual for one of his years, that from 
 a doubt of the correctness of the method of 
 worship there would eventually arise a doubt 
 as to the truth of the worship itself. This he 
 was determined to prevent with regard to 
 Lydda, and with this end in view he had late- 
 ly appeared more loyal and devoted to the 
 goddess when in the presence of the woman 
 he longed to make his wife. Come what may 
 to himself, he frequently resolved, there 
 should nothing happen to the daughter of 
 Mellanides if it were in his power to pre- 
 vent it. 
 
 There was another source of anxiety for 
 Andros over and above the difficulties of 
 mind which had grown out of a natural re- 
 pugnance to what was base and low, into 
 which he saw plainly the national religion 
 had degenerated. The other anxiety which 
 gnawed constantly was the thought of the 
 danger of losing, or of not winning, the 
 woman he loved. 
 
 On several occasions of late when visiting 
 the house of Mellanides he had seen Aratus 
 in close and earnest conversation with Lyd- 
 da. More than once when he had made a
 
 36 ARATUS' PLOTTING 
 
 sudden and unexpected entry into the peri- 
 style he had noticed the flushed and excited 
 face of Aratus. Was Aratus making love to 
 her? There was always one grain of com- 
 fort for him on these occasions. With the 
 lover's jealous eye he had seen with a cer- 
 tain amount of relief that Lydda appeared 
 unmoved and unemotional. This was his 
 consolation, that however passionate the 
 pleadings of Aratus may have been, she to 
 whom they were addressed did not appear to 
 reciprocate them in the least degree. 
 
 He did not fail to notice on these occasions 
 the gestures of annoyance on the part of 
 Aratus at his intrusion. More than once he 
 caught sight of an ugly leer on his rival's 
 face which he realized portended no good for 
 him. He knew that Aratus was unscrupu- 
 lous, but he was not aware that he would 
 stop at no means to gain his end. Andros 
 did not realize this. Being a sincere char- 
 acter himself he did not suspect evil in 
 others. Had he known the world better he 
 would have realized that a man can have no 
 greater enemy than a rival lover. 
 
 Aratus had learned enough from the art- 
 less talk of Lydda to discover the somewhat 
 peculiar tone and condition of the mind of 
 Andros. He determined to watch him close- 
 ly in order to gain an opportunity to de- 
 nounce him to the temple authorities, who 
 exercised a species of baleful influence in the 
 city. He knew that if Andros was once in
 
 ARATUS' PLOTTING 37 
 
 the clutches of the relentless priests of Diana 
 he would no longer have cause to fear him as 
 a rival. Enormous as was the wealth of the 
 temple, Aratus knew very well that the 
 priests would spare no pains to increase their 
 store. He realized that should Andros once 
 get into their clutches, neither the Chancel- 
 lor nor all the civic authorities combined, nor 
 the Roman pro-consul, would have interest 
 or influence sufficient to save him from being 
 fleeced of nearly all he possessed on one 
 specious pretext or another. 
 
 One day in the middle of the month of 
 April, just before the beginning of the Ar- 
 temision festival, Lydda and Mellanides, 
 with both Andros and Aratus were lounging 
 on cushioned benches placed near the steps 
 which led down to the water of the implu- 
 vium. All were watching the two swans 
 sailing gracefully about, stirred as all nature 
 was, by the spirit of spring. Two black slave 
 girls, one on either side of the impluvium 
 leaned over the low wall and alternately 
 dropped crumbs of bread into the water. 
 They watched, with much musical laughter, 
 the race of the swans to and fro to secure the 
 coveted morsels. 
 
 "A picture of life!" said Mellanides, who 
 prided himself upon being somewhat of a 
 philosopher. "Like those swans we rush 
 hither and thither after life's prizes and gen- 
 erally succeed in obtaining merely the 
 crumbs."
 
 38 ARATUS' PLOTTING 
 
 "But surely, sir," said Andros, "thou hast 
 received more than the crumbs from a gen- 
 erous emperor!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, 'tis true; but I am speaking in 
 general. Most people find that life's battle 
 gives them only crumbs, and then they turn 
 to the worship of the gods in their disap- 
 pointment." 
 
 "Then you imply, sir, that those who have 
 much of the goods of fortune do not need 
 religion." 
 
 "I said not so; but they that have wealth 
 often neglect our divinity." 
 
 "As is the case with our friend Andros 
 here," said Aratus, insinuatingly. "It is 
 commonly reported that he no longer at- 
 tends the sacrifices of the temple, nor has he 
 of late sent the priests any sacrificial fish." 
 
 "Is that so! Dear me! Andros, is that 
 so?" inquired the old man excitedly. "By 
 the favor of Diana thou hast inherited much 
 wealth. It is ever increasing. Is it true, An- 
 dros, what he says of thee? Art thou neg- 
 lecting the goddess?" 
 
 Andros cast a searching glance at the face 
 of Lydda. He saw there some signs of 
 alarm. Oh, if he but knew how much of 
 their mutual difficulties she had revealed to 
 Aratus ! Turning to that individual he dis- 
 cerned the evidences of a malicious satisfac- 
 tion on his face. He became angry. 
 
 "'Tis false! false as he who made it," he 
 said impulsively.
 
 ARATUS' PLOTTING 39 
 
 "Be not mistaken, friend," said the rival 
 diplomatically. He saw that he would have 
 to be cautious in dealing with this friend of 
 the family. He did not desire that his an- 
 tagonism appear too soon. His plans were, 
 at this time, not fully matured and he feared 
 a false step. He was aware that Andros had 
 a firm hold on the affections of the old sol- 
 dier, and he did not, as yet, know how he was 
 regarded by Lydda. "Be not mistaken. I 
 did not make the accusation. I merely said 
 that it was of common report. We cannot 
 prevent the wagging of people's tongues. 
 
 "That I grant," retorted Andros, "yet we 
 may help them to wag more viciously." 
 
 He was very angry, and, as is usually the 
 case with angry people, said more, and in a 
 more offensive manner, than he had in- 
 tended. 
 
 "Come! come! young men," said Mellan- 
 ides, "I will have no disputing here. I knew 
 the fathers of both of you, and I regard you 
 both in some way as sons. I will have no 
 quarreling here. Come, embrace and be 
 friends again." 
 
 Both young men held the old general in 
 the greatest esteem. His word was law to 
 them, at least in such matters as these, and, 
 especially, when they were his guests. It was 
 with some reluctance, owing to their nat- 
 ural antipathy, that they arose and clasped 
 hands. Both sat down in silence, and Lydda, 
 in order to relieve the tension of the situa-
 
 40 ARATUS' PLOTTING 
 
 tion, called for wine and some musicaLin- 
 struments. 
 
 That evening, at his own home, Andros 
 thought long over this scene. In a certain 
 way he was glad, or at least satisfied, that it 
 had occurred. He now knew the other's dis- 
 position towards him. He felt more or less 
 certain of the line of opposition Aratus would 
 pursue. He knew full well the danger of be- 
 coming involved with the priests of Diana, 
 for he had often heard of their relentless per- 
 secutions of persons destitute of sufficient in- 
 fluence to be able to protect themselves. 
 
 He realized his danger and resolved that 
 he would show himself publicly in the temple 
 of Diana within a few days. He told himself 
 that he had not forsaken the worship of 
 Diana. He remembered that within a few 
 days the Artemision festival would begin 
 and continue for four weeks. He had in- 
 tended and was still resolved to avoid the 
 ritual processions and their subsequent or- 
 gies, but had arranged that some harmless 
 hunting in the sacred grove of Diana, attend- 
 ance at the rhetorical and philosophical con- 
 tests in the amphitheatre and his daily ex- 
 ercise at the public gymnasium and the baths 
 should constitute his observance of the Ar- 
 temision. Now he changed his plan. While 
 fully determined not to witness or partake 
 in any of the orgies, he would to-morrow 
 seek out some friend and they would visit 
 the great temple of Diana.
 
 ARATUS' PLOTTING 41 
 
 He was a long time making choice of a 
 companion. At length he selected Deme- 
 trius. He knew that he was sure to find him 
 in the temple grounds a little after the noon- 
 day meal.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 A GATHERING CLOUD 
 
 The next day a few minutes after the sun 
 had passed the meridian Andros wended his 
 way toward the enclosure of the temple. As 
 he expected, he saw Demetrius near the en- 
 trance gate leaning against one of a number 
 of pillars which supported a roof extending 
 all around the outer edge of the grounds. 
 This roofed promenade was much fre- 
 quented in wet weather and was also a 
 shelter from the burning rays of the sun. 
 
 Demetrius was an officious, active man, 
 who was never so pleased as when showing 
 some one, stranger or citizen, the wonders 
 and glories of the temple. This devout wor- 
 shipper of the huntress goddess was to-day 
 doomed to be disappointed. The evening be- 
 fore, during a ritual procession, he had met 
 two Romans who had promised to come with 
 him to see the riches of the interior of the 
 fane. He was in the place appointed for the 
 meeting punctually at noon, pacing up and 
 down with impatience. He was about to re- 
 turn to his own home with something very 
 like a curse upon all tardy travellers when he 
 was accosted by Andros. 
 
 "The goddess protect thee, Demetrius. 
 
 42
 
 43 
 
 Thou awaitest the two knights that were 
 with thee last evening?" 
 
 "That is so, my friend, and they are dila- 
 tory. If they come not within the next few 
 minutes I await them no longer." 
 
 "Let me inform thee, Demetrius, that they 
 will not come. I saw them, at the third hour 
 this morning, ride through the agora and out 
 the eastern gate, with their attendants." 
 
 "They have gone, and I " began Deme- 
 trius in dismay. 
 
 "The sights last night," interrupted An- 
 dros, "excited them very much. The danc- 
 ing in the procession raised so much dust that 
 it made them extremely thirsty. They in- 
 dulged, so the gossips of the forum say, very 
 freely in our strong Ephesian wines. Long 
 after midnight the pro-consul's house rang 
 with their noise and laughter. They dis- 
 turbed everybody. Metellus was in a very 
 angry humor this morning. He ordered 
 them to proceed on their way as soon as they 
 had partaken of their wine and bread." 
 
 "So ! so ! and all my plans " 
 
 "Be not dismayed over thwarted plans. I, 
 although a native of Ephesus, confess that 
 I have never seen the full wealth of the tem- 
 ple. If thou art at leisure I know thy 
 workshop will be closed for the greater part 
 of the month of the Artemision I shall be 
 proud if thou wilt show me the riches of the 
 goddess." 
 
 "Thou an Ephesian and hast not seen her
 
 44 A GATHERING CLOUD 
 
 treasures!" exclaimed Demetrius. 
 
 "I confess it." 
 
 "Howoldartthou?" 
 
 "Thirty years." 
 
 "Take shame to thyself then. A poor wor- 
 shipper thou!" 
 
 "Time will mend my faults, if thou art 
 kind." 
 
 The answer pleased the enthusiastic De- 
 metrius, who replied: 
 
 "I like thy manners. I will show thee the 
 temple. I am well known within it. Hast 
 thou money with thee?" 
 
 "Sufficient for all the needs of both of us," 
 replied Andros. 
 
 With all his enthusiastic and somewhat 
 fussy devotion, Demetrius was shrewd. He 
 extolled, in season and out of season, the 
 greatness of Diana and the wonders of the 
 temple, but never to the extent of loosening 
 his own purse-strings. 
 
 "Come then," he said, "we will mount the 
 broad steps and be in readiness when the 
 great doors are thrown open. The high 
 priestess and her attendants sleep long after 
 a great procession." 
 
 The two mounted the broad flight of ten 
 steps and sat down in the shade of one of the 
 massive pillars of the platform. 
 
 "While we wait for these great doors to 
 swing," said Andros, "tell me something 
 about the mother of the gods, as we Ephe- 
 sians love to call her."
 
 A GATHERING CLOUD 45 
 
 This was precisely the subject most dear 
 to the heart of Demetrius. He had no 
 greater delight than in discovering a willing 
 listener. Andros probably knew more of the 
 subject than Demetrius, but he wished to de- 
 tain him until the temple was open. Deme- 
 trius took himself seriously. 
 
 "It pleaseth me," he said, "that thou art 
 one of the few who seek knowledge concern- 
 ing our worship. Young man, thou art supe- 
 rior to most youths of thy age who think of 
 nothing in these days but the making of love 
 songs, or of wasting their time on the verses 
 of Sappho." 
 
 Andros smiled. He felt that the compli- 
 ment was undeserved, for he was taking but 
 half an interest in the whole affair. It was a 
 holiday with him. He regarded the journey 
 he was about to make with Demetrius as one 
 entirely of sight-seeing, and not one of devo- 
 tion. He was also making the visit from a 
 motive of policy and to dull the edge of the 
 sarcasm which emanated from the vicious 
 tongue of Aratus. He had, of course, often 
 been within the temple, but he had never 
 seen the great statue unveiled, nor had it 
 been his good fortune to witness the display 
 of the vast treasures of the temple. He now 
 relied upon Demetrius to gain admission to 
 the treasure rooms. 
 
 Demetrius settled down comfortably after 
 the manner of professional story-tellers. 
 
 "Diana, daughter of Jupiter and Latona,
 
 46 A GATHERING CLOUD 
 
 and sister of Apollo, was born in the island 
 of Delos," he began. "She is Diana on earth, 
 Luna in heaven, and Hecate, or Proserpine 
 in hell. Her father, at her request, granted 
 her perpetual virginity, bestowed on her 
 bows and arrows, appointed her queen of the 
 woods and forests, and assigned her sixty 
 nymphs, called Oceania, and twenty of the 
 Asiae as guards and attendants. Knowest 
 thou, young man," continued Demetrius, 
 "why Diana presides over the craft by which 
 thou art adding to thy store of wealth 
 over fishermen and in general over all who 
 use nets for the taking of game?" 
 
 Andros shook his head negatively. 
 
 "Britomartis, daughter of Jupiter and 
 Carme, being out hunting, accidentally en- 
 tangled herself in her own nets whilst a wild 
 boar was approaching; upon which she 
 vowed a temple to Diana if she might es- 
 cape the danger. Escaping, she erected a 
 temple to Diana Dictynna. Diana's virtue 
 was not only inviolable, but very severe." 
 
 "If that be so," asked Andros, suddenly, 
 "why such orgies as were witnessed in the 
 streets last night? These very temple 
 grounds were the scene of grossest de- 
 bauchery." 
 
 Demetrius appeared nonplussed for the 
 moment. 
 
 "Surely if the virtue of the goddess were 
 severe," continued Andros, "her worshippers 
 should imitate her."
 
 A GATHERING CLOUD 47 
 
 Demetrius paused. He appeared very 
 much annoyed. He frowned, and stared into 
 the face of the younger man, but seeing that 
 his countenance was imperturbable, and 
 without indication of either ridicule or sar- 
 casm, he began to make some sort of an ex- 
 planation. 
 
 "You see ah! this is the way the wor- 
 ship has assumed its present form. The first 
 worshippers went mad and killed each other. 
 From that fact the tradition grew that the 
 goddess craved human blood." 
 
 "So the cultus of Diana is in process of 
 change as it were?" asked Andros, remem- 
 bering Lydda's conviction that the worship 
 would improve. 
 
 "I think so. Originally human sacrifices 
 were offered, but later, animals dressed in 
 men's clothes and bearing men's names were 
 substituted. Now we sacrifice to Diana here 
 in Ephesus the first fruits of the earth, oxen, 
 rams and white hinds. In different parts of 
 the world, so travellers tell us, men are still 
 occasionally sacrificed." 
 
 "The priest of Diana Aricina must be a 
 murderer, must he not?" asked Andros, who 
 really knew a great deal about the history of 
 the goddess. 
 
 Once more Demetrius flushed angrily. He 
 could not fathom the motive of the ques- 
 tioner, nor could he decide whether the 
 young man was merely sneering, or seeking 
 information. Noticing a slight muscular
 
 48 A GATHERING CLOUD 
 
 movement of the lips, and hastily deciding it 
 was one of amusement, Demetrius became 
 very angry. 
 
 "Great is Diana of the EphesiansP' he 
 shouted in a very loud and angry voice, "and 
 thou art nought but a scoffer of her divin- 
 ity!" 
 
 It was the same angry voice and the same 
 words with which, years later, this same 
 Demetrius was to lead an infuriated mob 
 against the Apostle Paul. When Demetrius 
 raised his voice in anger it was heard by 
 many within the enclosure, who came run- 
 ning to the steps of the temple thinking to 
 witness the not uncommon sight of a devotee 
 in a frenzy of madness, in which he would 
 dance and sing the praises of the goddess 
 until he fell to the ground in utter exhaus- 
 tion. Andros did not know whether the 
 gathering contained spies or friends of Ara- 
 tus to whom they would report his conduct. 
 He, therefore, shouted in a loud voice: 
 
 "Aye, great is Diana! Great is Diana of 
 the Ephesians!" 
 
 He then turned to Demetrius and spoke 
 to him in a lower tone and somewhat 
 severely : 
 
 "Thou art but a poor teacher when thy 
 pupil asks for information. I ask again, 
 good sir, why must the priest of Diana Ari- 
 cina be a murderer?" 
 
 The self-constituted defender -of the god- 
 dess now appeared as desirous of avoiding
 
 A GATHERING CLOUD 49 
 
 the attention of the crowd as was Andros. In 
 a lowered voice he answered: 
 
 "Thy manner, O master fisherman, and 
 the nature of thy question led me to think 
 that thou wert not a follower of the pride 
 of Ephesus. Perhaps thou art a worshipper 
 in some other temple? But no; thou didst 
 cry, 'Great is Diana of the Ephesians,' and I 
 see the bulla thou wearest over thy tunic 
 contains some of the Ephesian magic letters. 
 'Tis a safe amulet. So I will answer thee. 
 I have, in fact, answered thee already. In 
 this particular temple Diana is supposed to 
 require the shedding of human blood in her 
 sacrifices. Thou canst easily see that the 
 hand already stained with the blood of his 
 fellow would not shrink from human sacri- 
 fice." 
 
 Andros nodded as if satisfied, but interior- 
 ly his disgust was intensified. His repug- 
 nance to the whole system returned in great- 
 er force. 
 
 "What more canst thou tell?" 
 
 Demetrius delighted in displaying his 
 knowledge to any one who would listen. A 
 willing listener was a rare person for him 
 of late years. He had told all he knew so 
 frequently to his acquaintances that long ago 
 they begun to shun him. The greater the 
 difficulty he found in securing an audience 
 the more he burned to display his knowledge. 
 On this occasion, then, his good humor soon 
 returned. 
 
 4
 
 50 A GATHERING CLOUD 
 
 "Aye, aye, much more have I to tell thee 
 if thou wilt but lend thine ears. It is won- 
 derful how widespread is the worship of our 
 goddess. Diana Luna is the Alilat of the 
 Arabians. In Egypt Hecate is the Bubastes. 
 She fled from Typhoeus into Egypt and as- 
 sumed the shape of a cat. She is Diana 
 Cynthia in the island of Delos. The people 
 of Elis call her Speculatrix. The Phoeni- 
 cians took her worship into Greece. The in- 
 habitants of Caran in Mesopotamia thought 
 that the men who believed the moon to be 
 a goddess would be slaves to their wives as 
 long as they lived, but they who esteemed 
 the deity as a god would always be their 
 masters." 
 
 Andros laughed aloud. He assured Deme- 
 trius that he would always regard the moon 
 as a male Heity in future. 
 
 "Of Hecc/e," continued Demetrius, "I 
 could tell thee many things, but see! see! 
 the great doors are being opened. We will 
 go within."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 
 
 Before going into the temple on his visit 
 of policy rather than of devotion, the atten- 
 tion of Andros was called by Demetrius to 
 its magnificent outer proportions. 
 
 "Is there a grander edifice in the whole 
 world?" exclaimed the guide, aglow with na- 
 tional pride. "The ground on which the 
 temple is built," he continued, happy to show 
 his knowledge, "was originally marshy and 
 the edifice is said to contain as much ma- 
 sonry below the ground as above it. Count 
 the columns of the peristyle, Andros, and 
 thou wilt find there are one hundred and 
 twenty of Ionic architecture, a style of archi- 
 tecture invented especially for this temple." 
 
 There were good grounds for the silver- 
 smith's pride. The edifice was four hundred 
 and twenty feet long and two hundred and 
 twenty feet wide, and in magnificence was 
 surpassed by no other building in the world, 
 except, perhaps, the Temple of Jerusalem. 
 Along the outside walls ran a row of splendid 
 columns, and in front of each was placed a 
 statue of heroic size. The large eastern doors 
 were of cypress wood, the planks of which 
 had been treasured for four generations. 
 
 51
 
 52 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 
 
 Each panel was covered with plates of beaten 
 gold, and on them were hung many votive 
 offerings. The roof was entirely of cedar, 
 as were the horizontal beams of the ceiling. 
 
 On entering the building Andros was al- 
 most overwhelmed at the sight of the riches 
 displayed and with the riot of color. Thirty- 
 six columns supported the roof. They were 
 ornamented with metal, gilding, and stained 
 with red, orange, crimson and blue colors. 
 Scopas, the celebrated sculptor, is said to 
 have carved one of the pillars. Colored 
 stones, glass, and rich pigments were used 
 everywhere in profusion. Some of the cap- 
 itals of the pillars were sculptured with a 
 band of human figures. Others had ded- 
 icatory inscriptions. A broad frieze, finely 
 sculptured with lions' heads and antifixse at 
 intervals, broke the honeysuckle ornaments 
 running along the summit of the cornices. 
 
 To the eye there was a feast of barbaric 
 splendor. 
 
 At intervals along the north, east, and 
 south walls were numerous shrines, each 
 containing a statue of Diana. Some were of 
 pure gold; others of fairest ivory; one was 
 of ebony and several were of purest alabas- 
 ter. The greater number were of native 
 marble from Mt. Pion, a quarry situated 
 close to the northern gate of the city. 
 
 One statue, on which Demetrius gazed 
 with evident excitement, and, as Andros 
 thought, with avaricious eyes, was of solid
 
 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 53 
 
 silver. It represented Diana as a huntress. 
 Her hair was flowing freely; over her shoul- 
 ders was a sheepskin above a short tunic. At 
 her side hung a quiver of arrows. In her left 
 hand she held a bow, while her right was en- 
 gaged in restraining a hind which she held 
 by the antlers. The statue was exquisitely 
 wrought. It attracted more attention than 
 even the golden ones, all of which possessed 
 less artistic excellence of workmanship. 
 
 The wealth of the interior of the building 
 was simply untold. One would imagine that 
 all the riches of Asia were here gathered to- 
 gether. Every shrine contained an abun- 
 dance of votive offerings; golden cups, bows, 
 vases, shields, the spoils of war, tripods for 
 holding incense; and all of exquisite work- 
 manship. Priceless rugs from Persia and 
 rich-hued tapestries were hung on the walls 
 or scattered about among the various 
 shrines. Immense golden vases filled with 
 Smyrna incense stood before many of the 
 shrines. Worshippers paid a small coin to 
 the attendant priest, scooped out a shell of 
 incense and threw it on the burning coals of 
 the tripod. 
 
 During the Artetnision, vast numbers of 
 people flocked to the temple. At all the 
 shrines a constant stream of incense smoke 
 was ascending, so that before Andros and 
 Demetrius had been long in the temple the 
 ceiling of scarlet-painted cedar wood was 
 partially hidden. The smoke got into their
 
 54 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 
 
 eyes and throats and affected the brain with 
 a species of intoxication. 
 
 Evenor and Parrhasius, Appelles and 
 Zeuxis he who is said to have painted the 
 portrait of a comical old woman, the expres- 
 sion of which was so ridiculous that he 
 laughed himself to death; were all at differ- 
 ent times residents of Ephesus, and priceless 
 paintings of each were seen on the walls of 
 the temple. 
 
 It was only during the great spring festival 
 that the altars were so extraordinarily en- 
 riched. The immense wealth upon which 
 the people now feasted their eyes was usually 
 kept in the treasure-house behind the great 
 statue of Diana, which was the principal ob- 
 ject of interest in the immense building. 
 
 By the time that Demetrius and his com- 
 panion had leisurely viewed the richness and 
 the beauty of the various shrines, the edifice 
 was nearly filled with worshippers. 
 
 "Come, Andros, come quickly," said De- 
 metrius, "I have learned that the great statue 
 is to be unveiled for a short time. I want 
 thee to have a good view of the glory of the 
 gods." 
 
 The two worked their way with some dif- 
 ficulty westward and secured a convenient 
 position before the great purple curtain 
 which hid the principal statue from view. 
 
 The parapetasma, or immense veil, hung 
 ,from the ceiling to the ground. It was made
 
 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 55 
 
 of rich purple silk and ornamented profusely 
 with figures and arabesques in gold thread. 
 
 Standing before the veil, Andros was vis- 
 ibly excited. It may have been that the fumes 
 of the incense had to some extent affected his 
 brain. Hitherto, amid all the riot of riches 
 and color, his interest had been small and 
 his attention vagrant. Now, for some unex- 
 plained reason, standing at the very heart 
 and holy of holies of the religion of his child- 
 hood, on the most sacred spot in the whole 
 world for a true Ephesian, his expectations 
 were high, although he could not have put 
 them into words or have told the vague long- 
 ings of his soul. 
 
 Perhaps at the sight of the image of the 
 deity he would receive inspiration a light 
 for the mind which would forever settle all 
 his difficulties. Here, at the very heart of 
 the worship which embraced the greater part 
 of the known world, he would understand all. 
 Now, if ever, would come a solution to the 
 problems which had puzzled him for so long 
 a time. Henceforth his way would be clear. 
 He scarcely knew for what he longed, yet his 
 spirits began to rise. 
 
 Everything around him was gross and ma- 
 terial. Much was sordid and repellent to one 
 of his mental calibre. He was about to see 
 the most sacred thing of his lifelong worship. 
 Surely light and inspiration would come, and 
 the higher and nobler part of his nature 
 would now be satisfied. In a few minutes
 
 56 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 
 
 there would be an end to the mental pertur- 
 bations of months. His heart beat so vio- 
 lently that, notwithstanding the scuffling of 
 many hundreds of feet on the stone flooring, 
 he imagined that Demetrius must hear it. 
 
 Suddenly a loud blast from silver trumpets 
 rang throughout the great edifice. It sent 
 the blood tingling through the veins with 
 expectancy. Although loud and piercing, 
 the clarion call was very musical. It was 
 produced by sixty performers who were 
 stationed behind the parapetasma. 
 
 Andros expected the curtain to swing 
 apart in the center. He was surprised to see 
 that the great Diana was exposed to view 
 gradually, and with the worst possible effect, 
 by the curtain being raised from the ground. 
 Thus the base of the statue was first exposed, 
 then the trunk and, finally, the head. 
 
 There arose one long, wild shout of en- 
 thusiasm as the curtain rose. Many fell 
 prostrate on the ground. Hands were thrust 
 forward and upward in earnest appeal to the 
 goddess. An impartial observer witnessing 
 this scene could not have said that paganism, 
 as it here manifested itself, was a continuous 
 rebellion against God. As evidenced by the 
 supplications of the multitude, it was an 
 earnest grasping out after something. 
 
 The sensation most predominant with 
 Andros, as he gazed on the great Diana for 
 the first time, was that of fear mingled with 
 horror and disappointment.
 
 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 57 
 
 He had expected to see the embodiment in 
 stone of some high and beautiful idea. In- 
 stead, he beheld severity and an absence of 
 all real beauty in the image which had made 
 Ephesus famous for many generations. 
 
 The hall was sixty feet high. The statue 
 was ten feet from the ground, standing on a 
 pedestal rising five feet above the platform, 
 and was itself thirty feet in height. When 
 unveiled it was, of course, the main feature 
 of the temple and dominated everything. 
 The statues around the walls in the various 
 shrines looked small and insignificant by 
 comparison, although many of them were of 
 much greater intrinsic value. 
 
 The features of the great Diana were 
 carved in lines of utmost severity. They typi- 
 fied the avenger rather than the dispenser 
 of mercy. The head was surmounted with 
 a golden tower, indicating dominion over 
 all terrestrial objects. Around the head was 
 a nimbus containing eight griffins, to denote 
 the brilliancy of the glory of the goddess. 
 The body contained a numberless quantity 
 of breasts, to show that the goddess was the 
 support and mother of all living creatures. 
 Across the breasts and around the body were 
 the twelve signs of the zodiac. Those seen in 
 front of the figure were the Ram, the Bull, 
 the Twins, the Crab and the Lion. Around 
 the neck there was placed a necklace of 
 acorns, the primeval food of man. Each arm 
 supported two lions, denoting her power; the
 
 58 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 
 
 hands were stretched out as if to show that 
 she was ready to recompense all who came 
 to her. 
 
 The lower part of the body was covered 
 with curious beasts sirens, sphinxes and 
 griffins, intended to show that she was the 
 source of all nature and the mother of all 
 living things. The head, hands, and feet 
 were composed of brass. The rest of the 
 enormous statue was of alabaster. 
 
 As the parapetasma rose Andros' disillu- 
 sion began. To him there was something 
 repulsive in the barbaric statue before him. 
 He had hoped for an inspiration. This was 
 grossness. Instead of the sacred and gener- 
 ally hidden statue helping him to approach 
 nearer to his ideal of what worship should 
 be, it aroused all the antagonism in his na- 
 ture. The rude splendor of the temple itself 
 had offended his Grecian taste, but he had 
 hoped to find a recompense in some inspiring, 
 ideal work of art. The crude and unlovely 
 severity, with its overloaded symbolism, 
 repelled and disgusted him. 
 
 The abundance of incense that was being 
 burned before the statue, the prolonged, 
 shrill blasts from the silver tubse, the fevered 
 corybantic dances, the incessant striking of 
 perpendicular rods with deadened hammers, 
 the shower of rose petals from the ceiling in 
 front of the statue, the gyrations and bow- 
 ings of the priests and their monotonous 
 chanting, together with the roar of the
 
 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 59 
 
 increasingly excited multitude all passed 
 before him as if he were in a dream. He 
 appeared to himself to be some impersonal 
 being standing aloof as a mere witness of the 
 ceremonies. 
 
 Demetrius was almost frenzied with devo- 
 tional excitement. He turned to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 "Shout, Andros, shout with the rest to 
 our great Diana. Why art thou so silent? 
 Shout, I say. Shout!"* 
 
 Upon hearing Demetrius' voice, thick and 
 hoarse from excitement, Andros aroused 
 himself and came out of his semi-stupor. 
 
 "I will shout," he said, vehemently, "in 
 -honor of Diana of Ephesus, but not to honor 
 such a fetish as that!" 
 
 He pointed a finger of scorn at the idol. 
 It was a bold speech at such a time and in 
 this particular place. Had he been less 
 vexed, or less disappointed, he would not 
 have made it. 
 
 For one minute Demetrius was silent, as 
 if to gather the full import of the words, or 
 as if stunned by their audacity. Then, as 
 if suddenly realizing the enormity of the 
 crime, he put his hands around his mouth, 
 trumpet-fashion, and shouted: 
 
 "Ho! ho! citizens of Ephesus! A blas- 
 phemer of the divinity! Stone him! Kill 
 him! Kill him!" 
 
 Fortunately for Andros, the imprecation 
 was not well heard among the hundreds busy
 
 60 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 
 
 with their own loud supplications. A cer- 
 tain number in the immediate neighborhood 
 of the two men, however, had heard it but too 
 well. Andros saw his danger. He made 
 one desperate dash to escape. He knew it 
 was for life and liberty. 
 
 Before he could be seized, he ran along 
 the south side of the platform to the western 
 doors in the rear of the great statue and 
 reached the open air. But he was not to 
 escape thus easily. A number of frenzied 
 men had taken up the cry and came pouring 
 out through the same door by which he had 
 made his exit. He saw that now his life 
 depended on his fleetness of foot. He knew 
 that the River Selinus ran the length of the 
 wall of the temple enclosure. There was no 
 escape in that direction. He saw, with the 
 quick perception of one in imminent danger, 
 that he would have to run at least seven hun- 
 dred feet before he could reach the eastern 
 city gate and mix with the promiscuous 
 throng of the city streets. 
 
 While he ran, the savage shouting in- 
 creased. He reached the gate before the 
 gatekeepers understood that they should 
 have closed it against him. They thought 
 he was the leader in some festive sport. 
 Escaping from the temple enclosure, he ran 
 through the crowded streets in a southerly 
 direction and over the river bridge until he 
 came to the western extremity of Mount 
 Coressus. With the shoutings of the infuri-
 
 'Shelter! Safety! They seek my life!" he panted. Page 61.
 
 A SCORNER OF THE IDOL 61 
 
 ated mob ringing in his ears he dashed into 
 the thickest of the woods on the mountain 
 slope, where he lay hidden by the dense 
 foliage. Having somewhat regained his 
 breath, he started again as soon as he dis- 
 covered that his pursuers were dangerously 
 near. He ran on until he came in sight of 
 the farmhouse near the fountain, formerly 
 owned by the inebriate Pelopidas, and now 
 occupied, as he knew, by the strange people 
 whom he had intended to visit at the begin- 
 ning of the grape harvest of the previous 
 year. 
 
 It was with some trepidation that he 
 knocked at. the door, for his imagination had 
 attributed to these unknown people many 
 mysterious qualities. In his present danger, 
 however, he dared not hesitate. 
 
 "Shelter! safety! They seek my life!" he 
 panted. 
 
 "Come in, and welcome in the name of 
 God," was the immediate and unexpected 
 reply of the one who opened the door. It 
 was quickly closed and barred, and without 
 a question being asked he was at once taken 
 to an upper room. 
 
 "Bar the door, friend, on the inside, and 
 thou art safe. The walls and door are 
 strong. Stay thou as long as thou wilt. 
 When thou art rested I will bring thee 
 refreshments."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 
 
 Andros lay panting on the couch in the 
 corner of the room, half-angry and half- 
 amused. The incident had been so sudden 
 that at present he did not fully realize the 
 danger he had escaped. It cannot be said 
 that he was exhausted by the physical effort 
 of his flight. His daily visits to the city 
 gymnasium and his frequent attendance at 
 the public baths rendered him athletic and 
 capable of bearing a greater strain than the 
 race of three miles which he had undergone. 
 He had often run as far for the mere pleasure 
 of exercise, and had once been crowned with 
 oak leaves in the stadium for fleetness of 
 foot. 
 
 When his breathing became more regular 
 he began to ask himself how it had all come 
 about. He scarcely remembered what he 
 had said to Demetrius to make him so angry. 
 He was, however, fully conscious of the 
 effect of the words, whatever they may have 
 been. His mind went back over the various 
 events of the flight. How like a pack of 
 angry Scythian wolves had appeared his pur- 
 suers, as he once and again looked back at 
 them. He remembered how an aged peddler 
 
 62
 
 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 63 
 
 of almond paste and sweet cakes carried his 
 basket of wares upon his head, and how he 
 had shouted to him to stand clear. The old 
 man was either deaf or stupid, or determined 
 to impede his flight. Andros laughed aloud 
 at the remembrance of how he had seen the 
 contents of the basket, when the inevitable 
 collision came, shoot up into the air like a 
 spray of water and settle in all directions in 
 the dust of the street. "Poor old man," he 
 thought, "perhaps that was his only means 
 of livelihood. When this affair blows over 
 I will seek him out and pay him for the loss 
 of his wares." 
 
 The fugitive from the mob's anger was not 
 uneasy concerning his future safety. He 
 knew his Ephesians. They were light and 
 frivolous of character. He had seen many a 
 man pursued by an angry gathering for some 
 real or fancied offense against the goddess 
 of the city. In his younger days he had 
 engaged in similar frolics himself. If the 
 pursued was caught, it went hard with him 
 in some cases. Not infrequently the rough 
 handling during the excitement of the mo- 
 ment resulted in death. If he were fleet of 
 foot enough to escape, he and the incident 
 were soon forgotten. In a few days it was 
 safe for the object of the rabble's momentary 
 displeasure to appear again in public. He 
 had seen many an event of this sort. His 
 own predicament, therefore, gave him no 
 particular concern, now that the immediate
 
 64 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 
 
 danger was over. The people were always 
 good-humored at the Dianan festival. 
 
 While revolving these and such like 
 thoughts in his mind as he rested himself on 
 the couch, he suddenly heard a loud knocking 
 at the door of the house and the tramp of 
 many feet on the portico. 
 
 "Open! open! we seek a fugitive from jus- 
 tice! Hast thou seen a young man, out of 
 breath from running, pass this way?" 
 
 Andros held his breath to hear what would 
 be the nature of the reply. He distinctly 
 heard the answer, given in the same even 
 tones used by the person who had shown him 
 to the room where he was now hiding. 
 
 "Nay, friends, no stranger hath passed 
 this house to-day." 
 
 "That is strange ! He wore a pale yellow 
 peplum and had a red Phrygian cap." 
 
 "No man with such holiday garments hath 
 been here to-day. We have seen nought of 
 such a one." 
 
 This was literally true, for in his flight 
 Andros had thrown away his cap, and, find- 
 ing the outer ornamental cloak, such as was 
 worn by the better class on festival days, a 
 detriment to his speed, he had cast that off, 
 too. 
 
 "Thou wilt not harbor him if he cometh 
 this way?" 
 
 "It is not probable, friend, that a criminal 
 would be found out here in the open country. 
 Such people, as thou oughtest know, mostly
 
 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 65 
 
 hide where the population is densest. I rec- 
 ommend thee, friend, to seek for the one thou 
 desirest in the theatre or in the forum. Dost 
 thou not see that he would be easy of cap- 
 ture out in the open fields? By what name 
 dost thou call him whom thou seekest?" 
 
 "We know not his name. All we know 
 is that he blasphemed the goddess Diana, 
 and that he fled from the temple." 
 
 "Art thou, then, not engaged in a bootless 
 task?" Andros heard his protector ask in 
 those even tones of his, in which the fugitive 
 thought he now detected a trace of ridicule. 
 
 "People who hunt for criminals generally 
 know the person whom they seek. Thou 
 hast, of course, a warrant from the chancel- 
 lor of the city, or from the pro-consul of the 
 province?" 
 
 "Neither. We came as representatives of 
 the pontifex of Diana." 
 
 "Then I advise ye, friends, to be very care- 
 ful. Of course ye know that ye are out of 
 the jurisdiction of the temple, and even out 
 of the jurisdiction of the city authorities. To 
 act here, beyond the city gates, thy warrant 
 must come from the Roman pro-consul. 
 Thou art aware that he is no worshipper of 
 Diana, but perhaps thou dost not know so 
 well that he is very jealous of his preroga- 
 tives." 
 
 By the silence which followed Andros was 
 sure that his pursuers had begun to realize 
 their false position. He was convinced of
 
 this when, a few minutes later, he heard the 
 tramping of departing feet. Silence again 
 settled down upon the house. 
 
 The incident diverted his thoughts into 
 another direction. He could but admire the 
 adroitness with which the master of the 
 house had parried the questions, and, with- 
 out even saying what was not the truth, had 
 not revealed the whole truth. He asked him- 
 self, time and again, what interest could the 
 chief of the strange people for the one who 
 had admitted him and parried the questions 
 appeared to be the leader among them 
 what interest could these people have in shel- 
 tering and protecting him. They had not 
 even asked who he was, but had at once given 
 him shelter and incurred no small danger in 
 doing so. What was their motive? 
 
 In view of his own training from his 
 earliest youth, such a course of conduct he 
 regarded as inexplicable. He was a stranger 
 to these people. Why should they take him 
 in and shelter him from danger? What mo- 
 tive could have prompted them to put his 
 savage pursuers off the scent? They cer- 
 tainly expected no reward, , for he did not 
 appear, dishevelled as he was when he ar- 
 rived, to be the possessor of wealth. What, 
 then, was the motive? This he asked him- 
 self again and again and finally gave it up 
 as unanswerable. 
 
 Toward nightfall, just when the first star
 
 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 67 
 
 appeared in the steel-blue sky, he heard a 
 gentle knocking at the door of his refuge. 
 
 "Unbar thy door, friend. Fear nothing; 
 thou art among friends. We bring thee 
 wherewith to refresh thyself." 
 
 When Andros had removed the large oak 
 bar from the staples and had opened the 
 door, an elderly woman entered the room 
 bearing in her hands a dish of fruit and some 
 white bread of wheat. Having placed them 
 upon the table, she took from a younger 
 woman, who had accompanied her, a skin of 
 wine and a dish of meat that had been re- 
 cently cooked. A third person brought a 
 dish of sweet cakes and some honey. 
 
 When she had tastily arranged the meal, 
 she spoke to Andros in a kindly, motherly 
 way. Andros, surprised as he was with the 
 attention and kindness bestowed upon him, 
 thought he detected a tinge of humor in her 
 speech. 
 
 ''Doubtless by this time thou art hungry 
 young people generally are. I hear thou 
 hast been exercising thyself somewhat vio- 
 lently this afternoon. That is apt to create 
 hunger. Eat thy fill, good friend, and 
 mayest thou rest well to-night. My husband 
 bids me say that thou canst rest in peace this 
 night, for those who sought thee will riot 
 try to molest thee more." 
 
 There was a merry twinkle in her eyes, 
 which were set in a good-natured, good- 
 humored face. Andros was under the im-
 
 68 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 
 
 pression that the last few words she spoke 
 ended in something very like a chuckle. 
 
 "May I inquire," he said, in surprise at the 
 simplicity and graciousness of it all, "why 
 you treat one whom you have never seen 
 before as if he were a brother or a son?" 
 
 "Suffice that thou art in trouble. That is 
 reason enough." 
 
 "But you know me not. I may be a robber 
 or a murderer." 
 
 She smiled in her kind, motherly way. 
 
 "Thou lookest neither. I know thou 
 needest help. That is enough. We seek to 
 do good to others as we would have them do 
 good to us. Eat thy meal, friend, and rest 
 thee well." 
 
 She came later to remove the remains of 
 the meal, and once more assured him of his 
 safety. Andros was charmed with the kind- 
 ness he had received. The gentleness of 
 manner of the elderly matron was particu- 
 larly appealing to him. The kindness of 
 him who had received and sheltered him im- 
 pressed him. It was all so unlike anything 
 he had ever known. There was no ostenta- 
 tion. Everything was said or done with a 
 simplicity of manner and a naturalness which 
 captivated the young man. 
 
 "They admit me without question and find 
 me a place of safety," he mused. "They not 
 only do this, but, unsolicited, they champion 
 my cause. How clever was not the old man 
 in getting rid of my pursuers ! Why do they
 
 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 69 
 
 do all this for a stranger? Ah, perhaps in 
 the morning they will demand payment for 
 their services. Payment! Did I, I wonder, 
 lose my purse in my mad flight for my life! 
 Let me see." 
 
 He arose from the couch and lifted his 
 tunic and girdle from the floor, where he had 
 thrown them. Shaking them out, he found 
 to his dismay that his purse was missing. 
 It had fallen from his belt during his run- 
 ning. He was greatly annoyed, for he sin- 
 cerely desired to make a handsome payment 
 in the morning. "Ah, well, I will send some 
 one in the morning to my steward in the 
 agora venalis, or to one of my servants of 
 my house, and let him bring me a supply of 
 money. Yes, they shall be recompensed. 
 They do not appear to be any too well off 
 in the goods of fortune." 
 
 He formed this judgment as he looked 
 around the sparsely furnished room where 
 he had taken refuge. 
 
 "I w r onder what these strange people are. 
 They are not to be feared, at all events. 
 They must be good, for none but those pos- 
 sessing goodness would treat me as they 
 have done. Perhaps they are a new class 
 of worshippers of Diana, with a truer and 
 better code of morals and a purer worship. 
 Perhaps they are those for whom my soul 
 has unconsciously been reaching out. Who 
 can tell what the future holds! It may be 
 that through these kind people I shall find
 
 70 UNDER A STRANGE ROOF 
 
 a purified and ennobling worship of the great 
 goddess." 
 
 With such thoughts as these he at length 
 fell into dreamless sleep.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 A VISION OF PEACE 
 
 The young fugitive slept the sleep of the 
 healthy. Toward the dawn he was aroused 
 from his slumbers by a peculiar noise, the 
 like of which he had never heard. Whether 
 this sound had influenced him unconsciously 
 before it had awakened him, he did not know, 
 but he had dreamed that it was raining hard 
 and that he could hear heavy rain-drops 
 beating upon the roof. With his returning 
 consciousness he was not sure whether the 
 noise of his dream was not a reality. 
 
 Stretching himself upon his couch after 
 the manner of healthy men just aroused 
 from slumber, his brain began to clear. The 
 strange sound continued. He could not un- 
 derstand it. At times, though never loud, 
 it faintly resembled the patter of rain-drops. 
 Then he thought it bore resemblance to the 
 confused sounds of many voices in the dis- 
 tance. Ah, if the priests of Diana had taken 
 yesterday's incident more seriously than was 
 their wont, and had sent out a fresh company 
 of devotees to scour the country in search of 
 him! But the sounds came no nearer with 
 the lapsing of many minutes. He thought 
 that perhaps they might proceed from some 
 
 71
 
 72 A VISION OF PEACE 
 
 cascade in close proximity to the house. He 
 arose and looked out of the windows on two 
 sides of the room. The daylight was suf- 
 ficiently strong for him to see that the flat 
 nature of the ground in every direction pre- 
 cluded this supposition. On every side were 
 rows upon rows of well-kept vines, just now 
 a tender green with the early leaves of 
 spring. 
 
 He lay down again, listening intently and 
 much puzzled. The sound was not intense, 
 but resembled the distant hum of bees at 
 swarming time, although it was not contin- 
 uous. There seemed to be marked and regu- 
 lar pauses. After a time, at intervals there 
 was a fainter droning sound, as if some large 
 insect were beating its wings against a win- 
 dow-pane. Then it was stronger, short and 
 quick, and then occasional silences. Andros 
 was not to learn for a long time the meaning 
 of these sounds which were to him at present 
 so great a mystery. 
 
 It might have been one hour after these 
 strange noises had ceased that the master of 
 the house knocked at his door. Andros had 
 performed his ablutions and was noiselessly 
 pacing up and down the rather small room, 
 lost in deep thought. He was considering 
 what was the best mode of proceeding for 
 the day. Would it be wiser to go back 
 boldly to his own house in the city, not far 
 from the public gymnasium, or would it be
 
 A VISION OF PEACE 73 
 
 the part of prudence to remain in seclusion 
 in this peaceful place for a few days? 
 
 "I trust thy slumbers have been refresh- 
 ing?" said the one who had received him into 
 the house the day before. 
 
 "Excellent, thanks to thine hospitality/' 
 
 "The morning meal is now prepared. 
 Wilt thou be pleased to take it with us, or 
 shall my wife bring it to thee here?" 
 
 "I will come, and thanks," said Andros, 
 curious to see who and how many consti- 
 tuted the family. 
 
 He was conducted to a large, pleasant 
 room where the early morning meal had 
 already been placed upon the table. It was 
 abundant yet frugal, consisting of barley 
 bread, figs, apples, wine, milk and honey. 
 Andros noticed that before the seat to which 
 he was motioned there was some bread of 
 wheat and fish. The introduction was brief 
 and without formality. 
 
 "I am Elymas, and thou hast already seen 
 my wife, Joanna. These are my sons and 
 daughters, and this is Abdiel, whom we hold 
 in great respect." 
 
 There were two sons and two daughters. 
 Andros afterwards learned that the young 
 men's names were David and Gedaliah. One 
 of the young women was called Esther and 
 the other Hannah. He surmised that the 
 children's ages ranged from seventeen to 
 twenty-five. Elymas was about fifty-five 
 years of age, and possessed a handsome,
 
 74 A VISION OF PEACE 
 
 bearded face which indicated great refine- 
 ment and culture. 
 
 In the place of honor at the end of the 
 table sat Abdiel, to whom all appeared to 
 pay a special respect, all remaining silent 
 whenever he began to speak. The father and 
 mother sat at his right and left, and Andros 
 was placed next to Elymas. 
 
 All trepidation Andros had momentarily 
 felt as he approached the house the previous 
 afternoon had long been obliterated by the 
 unfeigned kindness they had shown him. He 
 was grateful, but, nevertheless, very curious. 
 Totally at a loss to account for the motive 
 of giving him shelter, and of treating him, 
 a stranger, as one of themselves, he earnestly 
 desired to learn more about them. 
 
 Before sitting down to the meal he ob- 
 served that all remained silent for the space 
 of about one-third of a minute. Andros 
 expected that he who occupied the place of 
 honor would pour a libation to Jove or 
 Bacchus, or perhaps to Diana. To his sur- 
 prise, nothing of the kind occurred. 
 
 The conversation during the meal was ani- 
 mated and cheerful without boisterousness. 
 Andros saw that there was a sort of familiar 
 equality between parents and children which 
 was entirely devoid of disrespect. All gave 
 profound attention to the few words to 
 which Abdiel gave utterance. 
 
 "Perhaps some sage or philosopher among
 
 A VISION OF PEACE 75 
 
 these people," thought Andros, "who, like 
 myself, is a passing guest." 
 
 When the meal was finished Andros and 
 Elymas repaired to the portico in front of the 
 house. For the first time the guest felt con- 
 strained and awkward, but he did not know 
 his host. He was remembering that he had 
 lost his purse in the running yesterday. 
 
 "I thank thee, Elymas, for this hospitality 
 and for the saving of my life. When I ran 
 to thy door, if thou hadst stopped to ques- 
 tion, or if thou hadst hesitated, without a 
 doubt my body this morning would have 
 been food for those vultures that are wheel- 
 ing aloft yonder." 
 
 "Thou art as welcome as if thou wert my 
 own son, good friend." 
 
 Andros bowed at the kindly sentiment. 
 His heart warmed to the elderly man who 
 evinced dispositions so entirely foreign to 
 the people of his native city. 
 
 "I regret the loss of my purse. At present 
 it prevents me from offering for thy accept- 
 ance a just recompense. I would beg one 
 more favor." 
 
 "Anything within my power," said Ely- 
 mas, "I shall be pleased to do. How can I 
 serve thee?" 
 
 "Wilt thou permit thy son David to go 
 into the city for me, to my house near the 
 public gymnasium? Any citizen will point 
 out the house of Andros. My house steward 
 will send me gold, if thy son but present this
 
 76 A VISION OF PEACE 
 
 ring. Then I shall be able to repay thee in 
 part for all thy kindness." 
 
 "If thou dost not require money for other 
 purpose than this," replied Elymas, gently 
 but firmly, "it is useless to send the boy. 
 Let thy mind be at rest, good sir. Thou art 
 welcome to all thou receivest. We take no 
 recompense from those we entertain, but feel 
 honored at their coming. Thy visit hath 
 brought a blessing to my house." 
 
 "What! thou savedst my life, shieldest me 
 from later danger, affordest me entertain- 
 ment and wouldst not receive recompense!" 
 
 "We have been recompensed already." 
 
 "How? By whom? None of my servants 
 have been here?" 
 
 "Nay, friend Andros, our reward comes 
 from a source of which thou art at present 
 ignorant. Perhaps at a later time I may 
 tell thee more." 
 
 "Thou speakest in mysteries. Tell me thy 
 motive for so much kindness to one to whom 
 thou art a stranger." 
 
 "Rest content with the knowledge of our 
 good will toward thee. Thou wouldst not 
 understand our motives. They would ap- 
 pear incredible to thee. Be ye content for 
 the present with the fact that we wish thee 
 well." 
 
 With this Andros had to be content. He 
 determined, however, that when occasion 
 arose he would endeavor to learn the motive 
 of their kindly acts to strangers and the
 
 A VISION OF PEACE 77 
 
 reason of their strange refusal of recom- 
 pense. 
 
 "This is the day we rest from our labors," 
 said the host. "Wilt thou be pleased to walk 
 about the farm with me, or perhaps thou 
 wouldst rather rest after thine unwonted 
 exertions of yesterday?" 
 
 The young Ephesian, laughing at the idea 
 of weariness, accepted the invitation. He 
 spent the greater part of the morning among 
 the vines and in the meadows. Returning 
 about an hour before the noon, Elymas, with 
 delicate tact, left him to the seclusion of his 
 own room until the principal meal of the day 
 was announced. 
 
 The mention of the day of rest did not par- 
 ticularly attract the attention of Andros. 
 He attributed it to the Artemision festival, 
 now in full progress, which, evidently, these 
 simple folk observed in their own quiet way. 
 After a time, when it grew near sundown, it 
 dawned upon him that he had heard no men- 
 tion all day either of the goddess Diana or 
 of the processions or the games. He thought 
 this somewhat strange, as at this season of 
 the year there was scarcely a house in Ephe- 
 sus where these subjects were not the fore- 
 most topic of conversation. 
 
 Andros found his intercourse with the 
 family delightful. He could not help no- 
 ticing that there was a freshness and buoy- 
 ancy of conversation, mingled with a spritely 
 playfulness, that charmed him. Humor and
 
 78 A VISION OF PEACE 
 
 modest hilarity were participated in by all, 
 mingled with the exercise of parental au- 
 thority on the one side and of prompt, yet 
 dignified, submission on the part of the sons 
 and daughters. 
 
 It was all remarkable, all strange to 
 Andros, although very pleasant to witness. 
 It was a phenomenon such as had never come 
 under his observation before. He felt in 
 some undefined way that in this household 
 there existed a concrete example of the spirit 
 of purity and virtue. He began almost im- 
 perceptibly to regard Joanna with that 
 religious reverence which he had felt for his 
 goddess in his early youth, when his view of 
 life was more roseate and ideal than it had 
 become in his later years. He watched the 
 family closely and was convinced of the 
 mutual love existing among them and of 
 the spirit of self-sacrifice and genuine 
 hospitality. 
 
 At his host's urgent solicitation he re- 
 mained several days as guest. He had 
 learned to love the family and looked for- 
 ward to the reunion at the time of meals with 
 no little delight, for it was a phase of life to 
 which he had hitherto been a stranger. 
 
 These kindly people possessed a strange 
 fascination for him. The remembrarice of 
 the remark made by the gross and red-faced 
 Callinus in the beginning of the grape har- 
 vest of the previous year "Are the women 
 beautiful? If so 'twould be worth while to
 
 A VISION OF PEACE 79 
 
 visit them, and we would then learn more 
 about them" now grated harshly upon his 
 nerves. He determined that, if he could pre- 
 vent it, neither Callinus nor any of his com- 
 panions should ever visit this peaceful house- 
 hold. It was with unmixed pleasure now 
 that he realized that his position in Ephesus 
 and his no inconsiderable wealth would en- 
 able him in the future, should the occasion 
 ever arise, to act as a patron and protector of 
 this family. 
 
 He was by no means certain that they 
 would not require protection before long. 
 Already he had seen that they were not, and 
 made no pretension of being, worshippers of 
 the Asiatic goddess. As far as he could see 
 they worshipped neither god nor goddess. 
 A flitting thought occasionally urged him to 
 ask them to explain their worship, if they 
 possessed any. He was not sure that the 
 family had any set form of worship, for he 
 had failed to discover any indication thereof 
 in the house. In every Ephesian home there 
 could be found a little shrine of Diana, or 
 Hecate, or Artemis the healer, and among 
 strangers residing in the city who were wor- 
 shippers of other gods there could be found 
 their household gods. In the house of Ely- 
 mas neither shrine nor statue was to be 
 found, nor anything whatever to indicate to 
 which cultus the occupants adhered. 
 
 Andres remained some days a welcome 
 guest, and when he bade the family farewell
 
 80 A VISION OF PEACE 
 
 his heart warmed towards these kindly peo- 
 ple in a way he had never experienced before. 
 He would have remained longer had he not 
 become anxious concerning the welfare of 
 Lydda. He knew Aratus would be a fre- 
 quenter at the mansion in his absence, and he 
 feared his machinations against himself.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH 
 
 Mellanides and Lydda had heard nothing 
 of the adventure of Andros. For three or 
 four days they did not regard his absence as 
 anything remarkable, yet when he remained 
 away for a whole week they began to wonder 
 whether some misfortune had not befallen 
 him. 
 
 Aratus, who was a frequent visitor at the 
 villa during the absence of Andros, was not 
 perplexed. He had heard nothing of the 
 visit of Andros to the temple, nor of the 
 anger of Demetrius. The city during the fes- 
 tival month was overcrowded with visitors, 
 and there were numberless feasts and festi- 
 vals to occupy the attention of everybody. 
 The mere pursuing of one man by a small 
 company of people from the temple caused 
 but the faintest ripple of excitement in the 
 immense throng on the streets. 
 
 It is small wonder, then, that Aratus heard 
 nothing of the incident. He supposed that 
 his rival was away at the Silenusian lakes, 
 looking after his fishing interests. It was 
 well known that the priests of Diana held 
 large interests in the lakes, and Aratus imag- 
 
 81
 
 82 THE JAWS OF DEATH 
 
 ined that Andros had gone north to protect 
 his rights. 
 
 He was not displeased that his rival was 
 absent, for Lydda and he were much to- 
 gether during this time. He greatly desired 
 to be able to ingratiate himself with Lydda 
 so as to render Andros furious and despair- 
 ing when they should meet again, but the 
 daughter of Mellanides gave him no encour- 
 agement. She was kind and affable, but 
 made no response to his not infrequent pas- 
 sionate appeals for her love. Her affection 
 for him appeared to be purely platonic. She 
 regarded him as a lifelong acquaintance, with 
 whom she could be on a much more free and 
 familiar footing than with a stranger. Be- 
 yond that her thoughts did not appear to 
 wander, much to the chagrin of Aratus, who 
 realized that he was making but small, if 
 any, progress. 
 
 An event occurred two days after Andros 
 had left the house of Elymas which did not 
 tend to increase the friendship which Aratus 
 professed to entertain for Andros. 
 
 The mansion of Mellanides was situated in 
 a domain which was surrounded on three 
 sides by the windings of the River Caystrus. 
 That part of the beautiful grounds which 
 sloped toward the river in northerly and 
 westerly directions was shaded by large oaks 
 and ornamented with laurel and oleander 
 bushes. The eastern slope was devoted to 
 the famous rose-gardens and to the cultiva-
 
 THE JAWS OF DEATH 83 
 
 tion of the vine. The velvet lawns were 
 beautifully kept and reached down to the 
 water's edge. 
 
 Statuary in profusion, in marble from Mt. 
 Pion, adorned the grounds, while here and 
 there were cages of wild animals the old 
 general's spoils of war. Eagles from Pales- 
 tine sat caged in proud captivity. Numerous 
 peacocks strutted around the lawn, proudly 
 displaying their gorgeous plumage or rend- 
 ing the air with their jealous screeches in 
 opposition to the sweeter notes of the captive 
 lyre-birds. 
 
 A mile west of the villa began a large 
 stretch of forest land. This was the Grove 
 of Diana. It was well stocked with game 
 and during the Artemision there was much 
 hunting there in honor of the huntress god- 
 dess. Owing to the river banks within the 
 boundaries of Mellanides' property being 
 patrolled by Roman guards whom the pro- 
 consul had lent to the old soldier to guard 
 his privacy there was not much intrusion 
 by strangers on the grounds. The lorica of 
 the soldiers glittered in the sun, and the 
 crimson comb of horsehair on the helmets 
 was enough to warn away trespassers, al- 
 though the river was alive with boats and 
 barges of all kinds. 
 
 Lydda reclined on cushions in a beautiful 
 boat made to represent a swan. Nubian 
 slaves, one at either end, poled the boat out 
 into the stream and then let it drift slowly on
 
 84 THE JAWS OF DEATH 
 
 the gentle current. She was attended by 
 two or three slave girls and was dressed in 
 her customary simple white stola, over which 
 she had thrown a mauve silk chlamys, or 
 traveling cloth, which was fastened at the 
 shoulder with a clasp. The richness of the 
 chlamys told of the rank in life of the women 
 who wore it. The one Lydda had chosen 
 was wrought with curious designs in gold 
 thread, and here and there were hand-paint- 
 ings of flowers and human heads. 
 
 The boat had been pushed out into the 
 middle of the stream. Lydda enjoyed the 
 moving panorama of brilliant colors as other 
 boats and barges passed and repassed her. 
 Some had awnings of pink silk, while others 
 let crimson cloths trail in the water behind 
 them. Some were moving masses of bril- 
 liant-hued flowers which completely hid the 
 occupants. 
 
 Around the bend of the river there sud- 
 denly appeared a large barge magnificently 
 decorated with festoons of roses. Four row- 
 ers sat near the gunwale on either side. Be- 
 tween them was a raised platform on which 
 reclined, on cushions and low seats, a com- 
 pany of young people of both sexes. All 
 were garlanded with roses, wearing them 
 around their necks, waists, and on their 
 heads. There was much drinking, laughing 
 and loud singing. In imitation of the Greek 
 galley, the prow of the vessel was adorned 
 with a cheniscus resembling the head and
 
 THE JAWS OF DEATH 85 
 
 neck of an aquatic bird of enormous propor- 
 tions. The cheniscus was almost covered 
 with myrtle and wreaths of flowers. On the 
 prow itself were painted two large eyes. 
 
 Wine flowed freely. Serving men kept 
 the goblets full. Some of the occupants of 
 the barge had already succumbed to the 
 fumes and were lying either in a maudlin or 
 drunken stupor. Others appeared to be in 
 the highest state of hilarity. The oarsmen, 
 who were not unsupplied with the intoxicat- 
 ing beverage, rowed recklessly, and even the 
 steersman at the helm grew careless. 
 
 The other pleasure boats on the river 
 rowed to either bank, to be out of harm's 
 way, with all possible speed. Lydda's little 
 vessel was merely a fanciful punt, and was, in 
 consequence, moved very slowly by the 
 slaves. When she saw the barge bearing 
 down on her she was in the middle of the 
 stream, and instantly she realized her 
 danger. Her awkward slaves or, indeed, 
 the best managers of a boat with the means 
 of propelling it that were at hand could not 
 get out of the way of the rapidly approaching 
 barge with its careless and drunken crew, 
 who were celebrating a kind of Bacchanalian 
 water festival. Notwithstanding that for a 
 long term of years the Bacchanalian orgies 
 had been suppressed as public functions in 
 the Roman Empire, and to perform them in 
 private the permission of the Praetor Ur- 
 banus and a confirmatory vote of the Senate
 
 86 THE JAWS OF DEATH 
 
 had to be obtained, yet the practice in the 
 provinces was never wholly suppressed. 
 Rome winked at many things in her prov- 
 inces, provided the annual vectigalia, or 
 imperial tax, was forthcoming. 
 
 In less than half a minute from the time 
 the barge had turned the bend in the river it 
 had struck the swan-boat of Lydda. With a 
 shriek the handmaidens flung themselves 
 into the water. The two pole-men were 
 struck down and fell into the water, never to 
 rise again. Half-stunned by the concussion, 
 Lydda was thrown into the water. She for- 
 tunately grasped one of the poles as it was 
 floating down the stream and with its aid 
 managed to keep her head above the water 
 for a few minutes. 
 
 The brutal rioters in the pleasure barge did 
 not stop to see what damage they had done. 
 In the distance could be heard their laughter 
 and ribald songs. 
 
 Lydda held to the pole until her strength 
 was exhausted. Just as she was sinking 
 down into the dark green waters, she felt a 
 strong arm encircling her and her head 
 gently forced against a manly shoulder. 
 
 "Thanks be to all the gods that I arrived 
 in time to save the light of my life! my 
 Lydda ! my Lydda !" 
 
 And then she knew no more for many min- 
 utes. Andros, who had been hunting in the 
 Grove of Diana was, by chance, near the 
 scene of the accident. He had recognized
 
 THE JAWS OF DEATH 87 
 
 Lydda's little boat in the stream, and she had 
 gaily waved her hand to him a moment 
 before the big barge had rushed onward in 
 its destructive course. He spurred his horse 
 into the river as far as it could keep its foot- 
 ing and then he swam vigorously to the sav- 
 ing of the life of the one for whom he would 
 willingly have lost his own.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE BITTERNESS OF ENVY 
 
 One of the Roman guards ran to the house 
 to give tidings of the disaster. Old Mellan- 
 ides, frantic with distress at the news, 
 which, as is usual in such cases, was distorted 
 and made to appear worse than the circum- 
 stance warranted, came running down the 
 sloping lawn, his toga flying out far behind 
 him. 
 
 "My daughter! my darling! my only one!" 
 he screamed, long before he reached her drip- 
 ping form in Andros' arms at the water's 
 edge. "Oh, is she dead? my own, my sweet 
 child ! Dead ! dead ! Oh, ye gods, have pity 
 on my old age ! Restore her to me again 
 the joy of my old age !" 
 
 "She is not dead, good sir," said Andros, 
 who still held her in his arms; "the shock of 
 the collision and the sudden immersion have 
 caused her to faint. She will recover in a 
 short time." 
 
 "Give her to me! Give her to me! I will 
 carry her to her room. Not dead ! Art sure 
 she is not dead? Thanks be to the gods!" 
 
 "Nay, sir," said Andros, knowing that it 
 
 88
 
 THE BITTERNESS OF ENVY 89 
 
 was beyond the aged man's strength to carry 
 her up the hill, "I will carry her to the house. 
 Send thou a messenger ahead to have a couch 
 prepared for her. I will carry her." 
 
 Many of the household slaves came run- 
 ning down to the water's edge when they 
 heard of the accident. One was sent to the 
 house to have everything in readiness. 
 Others busied themselves in rescuing the 
 slave girls, who were still in the water. 
 Others were informed of the Nubians' dis- 
 appearance and were told to dive for them 
 and, if possible, rescue them. One body was 
 recovered, but life was extinct. The other 
 was never seen again. 
 
 Andros carried the unconscious form of 
 Lydda to the villa, and gently placed her on 
 a couch in the impluvium. He was unwont- 
 edly excited. He bent down and was about 
 to implant an impassioned kiss on the now 
 cold and impassive brow of the woman 
 he loved when he became conscious of an- 
 other presence in the impluvium. He 
 straightened himself to meet the eyes of 
 Aratus. 
 
 He was intensely annoyed at the inoppor- 
 tuneness of the meeting. Seeing a cynical 
 sneer on the lips of his adversary, he could 
 have felled him with a blow. Aratus saw 
 danger in the flushed and frowning face, and 
 became politic in his procedure. Without 
 appearing hastily to get out of the reach of
 
 90 THE BITTERNESS OF ENVY 
 
 danger, which he knew at that moment lay 
 in Andros' arm, he stepped backward a 
 couple of steps so that the other, if he in- 
 tended to strike, would have to reach far over 
 the recumbent girl to reach him. This he 
 knew Andros would not do. 
 
 "Thou art a worthy leech, and wouldst 
 take thy payment quickly." 
 
 "Thou art Hecate's hound, and had I 
 thee alone, and in different circumstances, I 
 would show thee what I think of thee." 
 
 "A very hero, who are impatient lest thy 
 services go unrewarded," retorted Aratus, 
 who continued to get farther away as he 
 spoke. 
 
 At that moment Mellanides ran into the 
 impluvium from the steward's office with a 
 silver plate on which was burning some aro- 
 matic gum, the smoke of which was very 
 pungent. He had heard the last words of 
 Aratus. 
 
 "What! what! you two boys quarreling 
 again! This is not the time for disagree- 
 ments. Here, Aratus, get that feather fan 
 and waft the smoke towards my daughter's 
 face." 
 
 Aratus excused himself, saying that he 
 was about to see the pro-consul to have the 
 revellers of the barge arrested for murder in 
 case Lydda did not recover. 
 
 "Farew r ell, sir. I haste to the Roman gar- 
 rison. Farewell,. Andros. Be sure thou
 
 gettest thy pay for thy medical services. I 
 trust thee for that." 
 
 "Thou dog of Cerberus!" began Andros, 
 now furiously angry, but he was checked by 
 the pathetic look on old Mellanides' face. 
 
 "Leave thy quarrel for the time, my friend, 
 and do thou assist me to restore my daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 As the young man could not refuse the 
 appeal, he therefore turned his back on his 
 rival, not, however, before he had said in a 
 low but clear tone, distinctly heard by Aratus 
 but not caught by the old warrior. 
 
 "Thy life shall be forfeit for this. Look 
 yc to it, I warn thee." 
 
 Aratus was some little distance away by 
 this time, and so thought it safe to snap his 
 ringers at Andros. He did this with an 
 amount of bravado, for he was far from being 
 courageous. He was a coward at heart, and 
 really feared his adversary. He knew that 
 Andros was aware that the attention he was 
 paying to Lydda was not the effect of real 
 love for her, nor entirely disinterested. The 
 fact was that he was enormously in debt. 
 He knew that the daughter of Mellanides 
 would inherit immense wealth of gold and 
 rich household treasures, as well as house 
 and lands. As long as he thought there was 
 an equal chance with Andros to win the heir- 
 ess' hand, he could manage by profuse prom- 
 ises of future gratuities to the Ephesian Jews
 
 92 THE BITTERNESS OF ENVY 
 
 to stand off these money lenders. He was 
 not, therefore, so much in terror of the 
 strong arm of Andros although he realized 
 that it would be prudent to keep away from 
 that as he was of a decided preference being 
 shown for him by Lydda, for in some imper- 
 ceptible way his creditors learned almost 
 daily of the prospects and progress of his 
 suit. 
 
 By the law of probabilities and by nice cal- 
 culation the money lenders of Ephesus had 
 allotted but a short time more only a few 
 months at most as the limit under ordinary 
 circumstances of Mellanides' life. They 
 knew that then, or at least after a brief sea- 
 son of mourning, Lydda would marry, and 
 they watched the fluctuating chances of 
 Aratus as only those can to whom domestic 
 happenings mean loss or gain. 
 
 Aratus was aware that the events of the 
 day would be speedily conveyed to the ears 
 of his Jewish creditors. He was often puz- 
 zled at their accurate knowledge of his do- 
 mestic affairs. He surmised that it was 
 some slave who was liberally bribed to give 
 the information, but he had never succeeded 
 in discovering which slave it was. He was 
 sure that so important an event as the acci- 
 dent would not go untold, and he was equally 
 certain that the informer would tell of his 
 quarrel with Andros, and he was proportion- 
 ately vexed and anxious.
 
 THE BITTERNESS OF ENVY 93 
 
 Lydda was not long in recovering from her 
 swoon. The pungent odor of the incense 
 smoke greatly assisted in restoring her to 
 consciousness, and in less than two hours, 
 to the intense joy of Mellanides, she appeared 
 to be as well as she had ever been.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 GAINING GROUND 
 
 "You will remain our guest for a few 
 days?" asked Mellanides of Andros at the 
 meal on the evening of the accident. "I am 
 considerably shaken by the event, and do not 
 know what evil effects will follow. I want, 
 just now, a strong arm to lean upon." 
 
 Notwithstanding there was a slight touch 
 of pathos in the old warrior's appeal com- 
 ing from one who had all his life been so self- 
 sufficient Andros' pulse quickened at the 
 thought of being for some time near the 
 object of his love. He restrained himself so 
 as not to appear to accept too eagerly. 
 
 "I am getting old," continued Mellanides, 
 "and if anything should happen to me I want 
 my daughter to be protected. When I am 
 gone, as my friends have often warned me, 
 there is a probability that the priestesses will 
 set up some sort of claim to my property. 
 You remember when old Theon died how 
 they succeeded in securing his estate, leaving 
 his children in want. While I live I carry 
 my amulet against all their spells and incan- 
 tations, and so I am safe. When I am gone 
 it may be otherwise with Lydda. Will you 
 
 94
 
 GAINING GROUND 95 
 
 look after my daughter's interests? When 
 I die I leave this to you." 
 
 He held up a Gorgon's head with round 
 chaps and wide mouth, with the tongue 
 drawn out. It was emblematic of the full 
 moon. Mellanides regarded it as a preserva- 
 tive against all evils, and always wore it. It 
 was of blackened silver and was attached to 
 a light chain of the same material which he 
 wore around his neck. 
 
 Although Andros did not place much re- 
 liance, if any, in the charm, he promised to 
 accept and wear it. He regarded as much 
 more important that Mellanides should have 
 selected him as a kind of guardian of his 
 daughter. This he looked upon as a serious 
 trust, and he made a secret vow that he 
 would be faithful to the charge even at the 
 cost of his life. 
 
 "Thou hearest, O Lydda, the responsibil- 
 ity thy father places upon me?" 
 
 "Hast thou not earned this by right of res- 
 cuing me from death?" 
 
 She lifted her long graceful arm from the 
 cushion and reached towards him, as if she 
 would once more shake his hand in gratitude 
 for his heroic action. Andros seized the tap- 
 ering fingers and ardently pressed them to 
 his lips. 
 
 As he looked into her eyes he thought that 
 there never was a more beautiful maiden 
 born. She was tall. Her head had the poise 
 of Juno. Her features conformed to the
 
 96 GAINING GROUND 
 
 truest Grecian type, as shown in a broad but 
 not high forehead and straight nose, the deli- 
 cately thin dilating nostrils of which ap- 
 peared to quiver with every passing emotion. 
 Her red lips were neither small nor large. 
 Full and even teeth enhanced a charm which 
 the round curves of cheek and neck made 
 remarkable even among a city of beautiful 
 women. A classic Greek coil of dark rich 
 brown hair crowned her head, leaving the 
 small pearl-pink ears uncovered. A dash of 
 color on a complexion of clear creamy soft- 
 ness rendered her face extremely beautiful. 
 Her large clear eyes could quickly pierce 
 through deceit, or soften with compassion. 
 She had schooled herself for years to a 
 studied reserve as a safeguard in her some- 
 what difficult and isolated position as mis- 
 tress of her father's household, and yet her 
 pose always exhibited an unstudied grace. 
 
 Long the two sat in the gloaming and 
 gathering darkness in the impluvium. The 
 stars appeared, one by one, in the steel-blue 
 vault above, and still they talked on. Andros 
 told her of his visit to the temple with 
 Demetrius and of his impressions and disap- 
 pointments. He then related to her his ex- 
 perience and flight for life. During the 
 recital he saw that Lydda was visibly fright- 
 ened. She trembled for his safety as the 
 story proceeded. 
 
 "And how didst thou escape?" she asked, 
 breathlessly.
 
 GAINING GROUND 97 
 
 "I ran through the woods at the west end 
 of Mount Coressus thou knowest the place 
 and came to the house of Pelopidas. There 
 I was received and sheltered until the storm 
 blew over." 
 
 "I thought Pelopidas had lost his house," 
 said Lydda, "being too ardent a client of 
 Bacchus. I am sure it was so reported." 
 
 "Yes. He is no longer there, but the house 
 is occupied by a good and simple family 
 whose kindness and genial ways have quite 
 won my heart. They are different from us 
 Ephesians. They sheltered me and threw my 
 pursuers off the scent, declared they were 
 honored in receiving me as their guest, and, 
 what is strangest of all, refused all compen- 
 sation, hinting that in some mysterious way 
 they had already been recompensed. The 
 strangest part is that with all their friendli- 
 ness and hospitality they are blasphemers, 
 for they worship none of the gods neither 
 Venus, nor Jupiter, nor Diana, nor the em- 
 peror but as for the last," said Andros, 
 laughing, "I blame them not, for none but a 
 fool would ever acknowledge him as a god !" 
 
 "Hush ! let not my father hear thee. 'Tis 
 strange," she mused "this thy experience. 
 I, too, have had a similar one." 
 
 "Thou! thou, Lydda! Art thou becoming 
 an especial charge of the gods? Art thou 
 losing thy mind? Thou! how couldst thou 
 arouse the anger of Demetrius and have to 
 flee before an angry mob for thy life !" 
 7
 
 98 GAINING GROUND 
 
 Lydda laughed musically. 
 
 "Thou mistakest. I mean that I have had 
 a similar experience to thine in meeting a 
 family to whom my heart goes out. Dost 
 thou remember our conversation concerning 
 the worship of Diana some time ago? Thou 
 rememberest that thou wert disgusted with 
 the orgies that accompanied her festivals, 
 and with the degraded men and women who 
 serve at her altars and with the lowest types 
 of humanity who minister at the sanctuary." 
 
 "Well I remember! The thought has been 
 with me for a long time, and it was intensi- 
 fied when I saw the great statue unveiled for 
 the first time and looked upon a piece of 
 crude, barbaric splendor rather than the em- 
 bodiment of an ideal, which I had expected 
 to find." 
 
 "Thou once didst tell me it was thy inten- 
 tion to visit the temple. Since that time I 
 have not seen thee. So thou wert disgusted? 
 I am not surprised, and I also begin to doubt 
 my former assertion that the worship of the 
 goddess will improve and elevate itself. 
 How brutal was not the running down of my 
 little boat this afternoon, which might have 
 cost me my life but for thy assistance, and 
 did cost the lives of two of our slaves. Let 
 me thank thee again, Andros." 
 
 All this was very pleasant to Andros, but 
 he was desirous of hearing more of the 
 strange people with whom Lydda had come 
 in contact.
 
 GAINING GROUND 99 
 
 "Tell me of the experience thou sayest was 
 similar to mine." 
 
 "A few days ago I had crossed the Cays- 
 trus with the intention of wandering in the 
 woods and gathering spring flowers. I told 
 my slaves the two poor men who were 
 drowned to-day to wait for me on the 
 northern bank of the river. I wandered far 
 into the woods, enjoying the singing of the 
 birds and the flowers. My slave girls crowned 
 me with wreaths of daffodils and called me 
 their queen. It amused them and I permitted 
 it. We remained longer in the woods than I 
 knew. Perceiving that the sun was on the 
 point of dropping into the Icarian Sea, I 
 arose hastily, intending to return to the ferry 
 at once. In doing so I stepped upon a rolling 
 stone and sprained my ankle." 
 
 "Ah! wert thou wounded badly?" inquired 
 the lover. 
 
 "It was nothing serious. My slave girls 
 set up a wailing, thinking, perhaps, that I 
 would hold them responsible for the accident 
 and punish them later. Their cries attracted 
 the attention of some people living near by. 
 Three women came running through the 
 forest to see what had happened. The 
 stoutest of the three lifted me in her arms 
 and carried me with ease to their house, 
 about three hundred paces away. 
 
 "The door at once opened, and an elderly 
 looking woman said, 'Welcome in the name 
 of God ' and I was carried in."
 
 100 GAINING GROUND 
 
 "Strange," remarked Andros, "those were 
 the same words with which the people in the 
 house of Pelopidas welcomed me." 
 
 "What god, think you, meant they? Was 
 it Jove, or Hercules, or that quasi-divinity, 
 our emperor?" 
 
 "I know not. Didst see any statues of 
 their divinities?" 
 
 "There were none. Nevertheless, they 
 treated me most kindly. They applied hot 
 and cold water to my foot and rubbed the 
 wounded ankle, and were most kind. On 
 leaving they insisted that I should use their 
 vehicle. Rough as it was I could not refuse, 
 and, indeed, it was better than to have to 
 walk." 
 
 "They are a kindly people," said Andros, 
 "and I thank them. They are as good as 
 Elymas and his family. I must see them." 
 
 "The strangest thing about it all," con- 
 tinued Lydda, "is that when I offered them 
 some gold from my purse, they refused. 
 Didst thou ever find our own people refusing 
 gold, Andros?" 
 
 "Nay; but, if thou remember, I told thee 
 that those who sheltered me in my danger 
 also refused payment for their services." 
 
 "Thou must come with me, and we will 
 visit them together." 
 
 "And thou also must come some day to see 
 Elymas and his family."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 ARACHNE'S CAVE' 
 
 When Aratus left Andros in anger he 
 hastened directly south, past many fine villas, 
 until he came to the suburbs of the city, and 
 then to the city wall. During his walk he 
 had been thinking deeply and had devised a 
 plan by which he thought he could be 
 avenged on Andros for the threats he had 
 used against him. Passing through the 
 northern gate, he wound his way through 
 numerous streets on the east of the city port 
 until he came, near nightfall, to a tavern situ- 
 ated just within the city boundary. 
 
 The wine-shop was one of the lowest of its 
 class in Ephesus. Here congregated the 
 ruffianly characters from almost every nation 
 under the sun. It was a rendezvous for 
 criminals whose misdeeds had not yet been 
 discovered, and of those who knew, sooner or 
 later, they would be taken and executed un- 
 less they succeeded in gaining sanctuary. 
 Sailors from Alexandria and Athens, from 
 Syracuse and Paphos the worst of their 
 kind were there. Thieves and murderers 
 of Ephesus made this tavern their meeting- 
 place. 
 
 Aratus knew of its evil repute. Stepping 
 101
 
 102 ARACHNE'S CAVE 
 
 from the street down four steps into the 
 drinking cellar, he called for wine. He was 
 soon surrounded by an evil brood. Some 
 felt their long knives, as if to do away with 
 him. More than one gazed, with itching 
 fingers, at the little golden bulla he wore on 
 his breast, suspended by a thin golden chain, 
 and which was only partially hidden in the 
 folds of his toga. The visitor was fully 
 aware of the dangerous character of the men 
 into whose company he had intruded himself. 
 He was also aware that should he show any 
 indication of fear for his own safety that very 
 safety would be greatly jeopardized. Seat- 
 ing himself at a table, but with the precau- 
 tion of putting his back to the wall, he called 
 lustily : 
 
 "Ho ! mine host, bring wine for these brave 
 men. And, as thou valuest thine head and 
 thy reputation, let it be strong, as becometh 
 brave men to drink." 
 
 There was a general move of satisfaction 
 among the motley company. They gathered 
 around him in apparent good will. It was 
 seldom a stranger of the better class came to 
 this tavern, and less seldom was one found 
 willing to spend his gold for them. 
 
 "Bring a large ampulla. I and these brave 
 fellows are thirsty. Aye, brave," he ' said, 
 turning to the nearest of them, "brave men! 
 Ye are such as I like to have for comrades in 
 a dangerous game." 
 
 "What is it, master? What is it?"
 
 ARACHNE'S CAVE 103 
 
 "Drink first, drink all," said Aratus, who 
 appeared at ease, but was really hiding his 
 own fears under a cloak of braggadocio and 
 outward freedom of manner which was 
 merely assumed. He was, in reality, much 
 afraid of the knives and poniards of these 
 rough men. He was glad when the tavern- 
 keeper passed around brimming goblets of 
 rich Pramnium wine which quickly produced 
 intoxication. 
 
 "Brave men," said Aratus, "there is not 
 one here who would hesitate to slit a man's 
 throat from ear to ear?" 
 
 There was a murmur of general assent. 
 
 "'Tis no new trade among ye, I'll warrant 
 me. Drink, good fellows, for I have work 
 for some of ye tonight." 
 
 While the sailors and other frequenters 
 of the tavern were drinking freely from the 
 large jar of wine, which had been placed on 
 the table so that all could dip out a supply 
 as often as they desired, Aratus began to 
 study the men before him. He wanted the 
 assistance of two only, and he knew that be- 
 fore long most of them would be in a drunken 
 stupor or indulging in excessive hilarity, ac- 
 cording to the natural bent of character of 
 each. Before the wine fumes began to affect 
 the brain he picked out two sailors who, he 
 thought, would suit his purpose. He took 
 them aside to another table and began to 
 talk to them in a low tone, having slipped a 
 gold piece into the hand of each.
 
 104 ARACHNE'S CAVE 
 
 One wore the red woolen cap of a Cyre- 
 nian, which was pulled down over his ears. 
 A red sash held in place a dark, rough sail- 
 or's blouse which was ornamented with two 
 vicious looking knives. The face was cov- 
 ered almost to the eyes with coarse black 
 hair which gave him a ferocious appearance. 
 His companion was fairer and did not pre- 
 sent so desperate an appearance. His sun- 
 burned features were regular, and even the 
 hard-faring life of the sea had not completely 
 destroyed all traces of refinement in him. 
 
 "Are ye willing, friends," said Aratus, "to 
 go with me to-night on a perilous journey?" 
 
 "How many of us dost thoa require?" 
 asked the fairer of the two. 
 
 "But you two." 
 
 "Didst thou not lead all here to believe 
 there was work for them?" 
 
 "I did not say I wanted them all. Few 
 of them will be of use in an hour. I will 
 order another ampulla of wine. See how 
 that fellow's arm goes down into the crock 
 to fill his horn. It must be nearly empty. 
 They will all be asleep before long." 
 
 "Be not so sure. These seafaring men 
 can drink more deeply than thou thinkest." 
 
 "Well, we will tell them that we go to pre- 
 pare work for them. Come." 
 
 Aratus led the two outside into the cool, 
 fresh night air, and there told them that he 
 wished them to accompany him to the cave 
 of Arachne.
 
 ARACHNE'S CAVE 105 
 
 "Dost thou not fear," asked the Cyrenian, 
 "to disturb this spider's web this Hecate's 
 handmaiden? Knowest thou not that she 
 can raise storms at sea, kill infants at the 
 breast with a look, blast our crops and blight 
 our vines at her will, if she be angered?" 
 
 "I care not if she be the goddess of hell 
 herself providing she do my bidding," said 
 Aratus, more bravely than he felt. 
 
 "But, stranger, 'tis said she hath a Cappa- 
 docian bloodhound that can pull down the 
 largest man with ease." 
 
 "Art thou, Libyan, afraid of a dog when 
 thou hast slain lions in thine own desert?" 
 
 "No. I am not afraid of anything I can 
 see, but the witch hath powers over nature, 
 and demons do her will." 
 
 Aratus laughed. 
 
 "I have a talisman by which she will do 
 my will. 'Tis bright and yellow and heavy," 
 and as he spoke he dexterously slipped an- 
 other gold piece into the hands of the Cyre- 
 nian, who answered: 
 
 "As thou wilt. We will protect thee from 
 the hound. Thou must not require us to 
 enter Arachne's cave." 
 
 The eloquence of gold was successful. The 
 two men agreed to accompany Aratus to the 
 mouth of the cave. The night was very 
 dark. The journey was a long one out on 
 the road to Magnesia. More than once the 
 three passed small bands of roving depreda- 
 tors, and Aratus was glad that he had se-
 
 106 ARACHNE'S CAVE 
 
 cured the company of the two stalwart and 
 fearless sailors, who were, however, brave 
 only against known dangers, but the veriest 
 children in their terror of the unknown or 
 supposed preternatural powers. 
 
 When they arrived at the mouth of the 
 cave they were ready to attack the great 
 bloodhound should it appear, but no per- 
 suasion could induce the sailors to enter the 
 cave or face the witch. Aratus had, there- 
 fore, to enter alone, a task which he by no 
 means relished. Prompted by desire to in- 
 jure another, he made bold to advance to the 
 entrance of the cave, the interior of which 
 was partly lit up by the deep red glow of 
 burning coals on a low brazier. The earthen 
 floor was strewn with skulls, the eye-sock- 
 ets of which seemed alive as the small flame 
 of the brazier rose and fell. Dead newts, 
 and frogs, and lizards were fastened to the 
 walls of the cave. Suspended from the roof 
 by a string, hung head downward, a large 
 snake which with rude taxidermist skill had 
 been stuffed in the form of a spiral. The 
 slightest breeze set the snake in motion, 
 making it appear as if alive. A large blink- 
 ing owl sat solemnly on a peg driven into a 
 crevice in the rock. 
 
 The most fearsome creature was the im- 
 mense Cappadocian hound, which at the 
 sound of footsteps approaching sat up on his 
 haunches. His head was enormous, his eyes 
 blood-red, his lips pendant and running
 
 ARACHNE'S CAVE 107 
 
 saliva. An unlit Grecian earthen lamp hung 
 from the roof of the cave by an iron chain. 
 
 A low rumbling growl from the dog 
 aroused the old woman from her dozing or 
 revery as she sat with the palms of her hands 
 toward the blazing coals. 
 
 Horrible or dangerous as the huge animal 
 was felt to be, the appearance of the witch 
 was calculated to inspire both fear and re- 
 pugnance. She was extremely dirty, but 
 through the grime on her face could be seen 
 an ashen color as of the dead. Her eyes, 
 sunk far back into her head, burned with a 
 veiled glow of malice. There was not a 
 grain of superfluous flesh on her face, which 
 bore the resemblance to a skeleton, so tightly 
 was the grey skin drawn over the bones. 
 The lips were so thin that they appeared to 
 be merely parchment drawn over the teeth, 
 which, however, were large and well pre- 
 served. This one feature, which redeemed 
 the face from absolute squalor and ugliness, 
 had the effect of adding to the ghastliness of 
 her appearance. Long, bony fingers, thick 
 at the joints, seemed to be made for strang- 
 ling. She was tall, and her soiled palla was 
 in rags. 
 
 Aratus stood at the opening of the cave, 
 trembling with fear of the great mastiff and 
 with fright at the sight of Arachne, who, 
 well aware of his presence, crouched motion- 
 less over the red embers. He stood for some
 
 108 ARACHNE'S CAVE 
 
 minutes speechless, unable to break the spell 
 which the weird scene had cast over him. 
 
 "Who cometh to disturb my peace? Who 
 dares enter the cave of Arachne? Know ye 
 that those who consult me in my cave are 
 forever at my bidding?" 
 
 The young Ephesian was startled at the 
 tone of the woman's voice. It was as strong 
 and deep-chested as a man's, and the wonder 
 was that a being so old and frail looking 
 could produce such a volume of sound. The 
 voice, unusual as it was, coming from a 
 woman, had the effect of breaking the spell 
 under which the visitor had been cast. 
 
 "Call off thy dog, mother; I have business 
 with thee." 
 
 "Down, beast," she said, and lightly waved 
 her hand downward. The dog instantly 
 obeyed. He crouched down, but kept his 
 red eyes glaring at the intruder. Aratus 
 felt relieved, yet he noticed that the great 
 beast had advanced himself, stealthily and 
 as if afraid of his mistress, several inches in 
 his direction. 
 
 The woman pointed to a rock shelf answer- 
 ing the purpose of a seat. From her posi- 
 tion she could see the face of her visitor, 
 while her own was partially hidden in shad- 
 ow. Aratus sat down, but a moment later 
 sprang up in horror. In front of him he saw 
 for the first time, in a niche some six feet 
 from the ground, a black oak statue of 
 Hecate the Terrible. Around her head was
 
 ARACHNE'S CAVE 109 
 
 twined a wreath of snakes and in her hands 
 she held bunches of vipers, which in the flick- 
 ering firelight writhed and tried to escape. 
 Others were crawling around the foot of the 
 statue and some were sliding down the walls 
 of the cave. Arachne saw the effect they 
 produced on the mind of Aratus. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! coward! fool!" she croaked. 
 "Get thee gone! Why comest thou here if 
 thou art afraid of Hecate's symbols? Fool! 
 Know ye not they are all dead? dead as I 
 shall be ere many moons. Ha! ha! Thou 
 brave one! Thou art brave, indeed!" 
 
 Aratus looked closer and felt confused and 
 ashamed when he discovered that the vipers, 
 like the coiling snake overhead, were the 
 product of the taxidermist's skill. The old 
 woman seemed viciously to enjoy his discom- 
 fiture. The horror which the incongruous 
 setting of her cave caused in her few visitors 
 seemed to be her one species of amusement. 
 When she had finished her raucous laughter 
 and had ceased beating her palms on her 
 knees, she once more lapsed into sullen 
 silence. Aratus waited for a long time, and 
 finally summoned courage to address her 
 again. 
 
 "I come for a charm." 
 
 "Which will kill thy rival?" she inter- 
 rupted him. 
 
 He was startled. How did she know of 
 his intention? 
 
 "Then go thy way. Dost think that
 
 110 ARACHNE'S CAVE 
 
 Arachne will commit murder for thy gold? 
 What are thy loves and thy heartaches to 
 her? Go!" 
 
 "But listen, Arachne. All Ephesus knows 
 of thy skill. I ask not a charm that will lose 
 for him his life, but one that will merely get 
 him out of my path. I have gold to offer 
 thee." 
 
 He displayed several pieces in his netted 
 purse, the sight of which made the old wom- 
 an's eyes glisten more balefully and her 
 bony fingers twitch. Without speaking she 
 stretched forth her hand. He placed two 
 gold pieces in it. Her fingers immediately 
 closed over the golden treasure. 
 
 "Thou dost not want his life?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "But if an overdose of the potion that I 
 shall give thee should accidentally get into 
 his wine, thou wouldst not grieve over- 
 much?" 
 
 There was an insinuating leer on her grey 
 face which even to Aratus was repulsive. 
 
 "I tell thee, I do not want to take his life." 
 
 "Fool! thou knowest thou dost lie!" 
 
 She almost shrieked this last sentence, and 
 Aratus was conscious that she was speaking 
 the truth. She limped back to the farthest 
 recess of the cave and took from a small shelf 
 a box which appeared to contain a prepara- 
 tion of powdered herbs. Putting some of 
 this into a small vial, she filled it with liquid 
 resembling water, but which sent forth a
 
 ARACHNE'S CAVE 111 
 
 pungent odor. In a few minutes she drained 
 this off into another vial and sealed it. 
 
 "Three drops of this in his wine three 
 drops, remember will madden the brain to 
 frenzy and will cause a sickness from which 
 it will take many weeks to recover. Mind 
 thou useth no more than three drops," she 
 said significantly. 
 
 Aratus understood perfectly. He knew 
 that he possessed a powerful potion against 
 his rival, but he had no intention whatever, 
 at this time, of using more than Arachne had 
 prescribed. 
 
 When he left the cave he called loudly for 
 his two seafaring companions. There was 
 no response. They had deserted him, either 
 through fear of the dread Arachne's presence 
 or of the great bloodhound. Aratus was 
 compelled to travel back along the Magnesia 
 road into the city amid perils more real than 
 those of Arachne's cave, for this highway 
 had the reputation of being more infested 
 with robbers than any of the numerous ways 
 of travel leading to Ephesus. Aratus was 
 not much heartened for his solitary home- 
 ward journey when, on looking back for a 
 last glance at the witch's cave, he saw 
 Arachne at the entrance with a lamp held 
 before her ghastly face. He was startled at 
 her parting words : 
 
 "Fool! thou wilt loathe her yet. Thou 
 wilt loathe her yet."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 
 
 During his stay at the villa, at the request 
 of Mellinades, Andros often asked himself 
 whether Lydda had heard his impassioned 
 words as she was sinking into the water. 
 He could not decide whether she had lost 
 consciousness by the time he arrived. 
 
 Whether she had done so or not, she gave 
 no indication, preserving the same exterior 
 platonic affection for him which she had 
 shown since they were children together. 
 He knew that she was grateful to him for the 
 rescue, yet he was quick to see the difference 
 between gratitude and even incipient love. 
 
 He was, nevertheless, during the time he 
 remained with her, daily growing more con- 
 fident of himself, and of ultimately, securing 
 her love. He took new heart, feeling that 
 he must ultimately be successful, yet pru- 
 dently refraining from pressing his suit at 
 present, believing the time was not pro- 
 pitious, or such a course quite honorable 
 in view of recent events. He was willing to 
 wait, reasoning, and perhaps correctly, that 
 such strong love as his must in time generate 
 in her a reciprocal affection. With these 
 
 112
 
 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 113 
 
 hopeful thoughts he returned to his own 
 house. 
 
 The Artemision was now at the height of 
 its progress. The streets, night and day, 
 were noisy with the revellers. His own 
 house was within five minutes' walk of the 
 great gymnasium and the public buildings. 
 In the quiet of his own rooms he could hear 
 the roar and the shoutings and songs of the 
 crowds in the streets. 
 
 The young Ephesian was caught by the 
 gaiety and spirit of the holiday time, for the 
 change from the dignified repose of Lydda's 
 home to the noise and hilarity of the city, 
 with its merrymaking, influenced him 
 strongly. He still disapproved of the sen- 
 sual nature of the processions, yet the habit 
 of a lifetime was not easily overcome. The 
 calm and quiet of the house of Elymas had 
 deeply impressed him, and more than once 
 he had thought that there he would find that 
 for which his soul longed; nevertheless, it 
 was difficult to abandon the practices and 
 customs with which he had been familiar 
 from his earliest youth. All his life the Arte- 
 mision had been the great event of the year 
 for him, as it was with all the Ephesians. Its 
 attractions just now appeared to him more 
 than ever alluring. 
 
 He put aside for the nonce the craving for 
 the higher ideals and a purer worship, which 
 his reason told him was the only thing that 
 would satisfy his intellect, and determined,
 
 114 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 
 
 if not to take part in the ritual procession 
 that night, at least to be a witness of it per- 
 haps for the last time, he told himself. He 
 no sooner determined than he began to hesi- 
 tate. He knew that Lydda had not attended 
 any of the temple services or witnessed the 
 ritual processions for several years. Both 
 had agreed that they were, at least, not ele- 
 vating. In his prolonged visit at her house 
 they had discussed the question again and 
 again, and now, although there seemed to 
 be in him a hunger for the gay sights and 
 the wild and boisterous music of the dancers, 
 he felt that should he once more mix with 
 the throng he would in some way be a traitor 
 to himself and to her whom he loved. His 
 better part, his higher self, told him to 
 refrain, while the inferior nature in him 
 called loudly for distraction and excitement. 
 The lower call seemed the more exacting at 
 the present moment, owing, perhaps, to the 
 reaction from that higher plane on which he 
 always lived when in company with Lydda. 
 
 Chance settled the question for him in an 
 unexpected way. Early in the afternoon 
 his chief slave drew aside the arras of the 
 door of his room and announced: 
 
 "Good master, Isphar of Salamis in Cyprus 
 desires speech with thee." 
 
 Isphar was a rich merchant with whom 
 Andros had large and lucrative dealings. 
 He told the slave to bid him enter. 
 
 The merchant of Cyprus was a Persian
 
 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 115 
 
 by birth, and had retained the costume of 
 his own country. As he entered the room 
 Andros saw a man over six feet in height, 
 with jet black beard and hair and a very 
 handsome face. His long, straight features 
 were browned with the sun, but beneath the 
 tan was a rich red flush on each cheek. His 
 teeth were large and very white, and showed 
 in strong contrast beneath his black mus- 
 tache. He wore the Persian dress of the 
 better class. On his head was the Phrygian 
 cap which, contrary to the Lydian custom, 
 pointed backward. His tunic of plum-color 
 silk had long, wide sleeves and was held in 
 place by a broad white belt, in which was a 
 knitted silk money purse which partially hid 
 a rather broad dagger case embossed with 
 pieces of gold and a few small gems. Be- 
 neath the tunic was a short green skirt. He 
 wore plum-color stockings and red shoes 
 slashed with yellow bands. 
 
 With him entered his umbrella bearer, 
 who was dressed in a white, flowing tunic, 
 with a yellow cap and shoes of the same 
 color. The umbrella was made of strips of 
 bamboo and yellow paper. 
 
 "Welcome, Isphar. Welcome to the city 
 of Diana. I am honored by thy visit. My 
 house is thine." 
 
 "May thy great Diana preserve thee! I 
 thank thee for thy hospitality. I come to 
 pay thee the money I owe thee for the last 
 consignment of Pramnium wine, and ver-
 
 116 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 
 
 milion lead. Thy shipmaster could have 
 brought thee thy gold, but from my youth 
 I have had a desire to witness the Ephesian 
 Artemision feastings. Contrary winds de- 
 layed us sailing these many days. I trust I 
 am not too late to see some of the festivities." 
 
 "Come with me, good sir, to the atrium, 
 and we will soon settle the business between 
 us. That being over, thou art my guest until 
 thou desirest to return. Ho! Agis," he 
 called to one of his slaves, "take the umbrella 
 bearer with thee to thy quarters and see 
 thou use him well." 
 
 On the day of the arrival of Isphar the city 
 of Ephesus was quivering with excitement. 
 It wanted but one week to the close of the 
 Artemision, and the populace seemed to be 
 intensifying their pleasure as the festival 
 season drew to a close. 
 
 All day long and far into the night might 
 be heard the piercing shrillness of the flutes 
 used in the processions of the Megabyses, 
 or priests, or the harsh jangling of the crem- 
 bala, those shallow metal cups, as they were 
 struck together after the manner of cymbals. 
 The rattle of the crotals, or wooden casta- 
 nets, sounded everywhere, resembling in the 
 distance the noise of heavy drops of rain 
 falling on an iron roof. Songs and shouts 
 and laughter were heard everywhere. Al- 
 ready that day Isphar had caught sight of 
 one of the ritual processions which went 
 from the temple enclosure out into the grove
 
 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 117 
 
 of Diana, past the Port Panormus, or Sacred 
 Port. This gaudy affair was like a rehearsal 
 of what was to come in the evening after the 
 sun had gone down. 
 
 Upon landing, Isphar was dazed and be- 
 wildered by the number and hurry and noise 
 of the citizens on the streets. Representa- 
 tives of almost every known nation mingled 
 with the inhabitants and formed a motley 
 gathering of ever-changing color. All were 
 in high good spirits. Laughter and banter 
 passed freely among strangers and visitors 
 as among acquaintances. From the noise 
 and confusion of it all the traveller from 
 Cyprus was glad to get to the house of 
 Andros. 
 
 After a sumptuous meal, when the sun 
 had set in a bath of fire in the Icarian sea, 
 and when the spring gloaming was rapidly 
 turning to darkness, Andros and his guest 
 wended their way to the northeastern gate 
 which pierced the thick walls enclosing the 
 grounds of the great temple. Isphar was 
 fain to admit that the wonderful capital of 
 the pro-consular province of Lydia bid fair 
 to rival the glories of Rome, which he had 
 once visited in his youth. The visitor soon 
 realized that the religious life of the city was 
 engrossed in the cultus of Diana. Its in- 
 fluence was ecumenical so far as the large 
 majority of the inhabitants were concerned, 
 swaying and influencing their lives, in some 
 oarticulars even down to minutest details.
 
 118 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 
 
 The two friends had started out early, 
 Andros being desirous of showing his cus- 
 tomer all that was worth viewing. By means 
 of a goodly bribe, they had been taken by 
 one of the eunuch priests to the living-rooms 
 over the temple and were given a brief 
 glance at the "Essen," or chief priestess of 
 the Melissae, or virgin priestesses, who at- 
 tended to the services of the mother of the 
 gods. The two sightseers had not been 
 much impressed, for when the venal priest 
 had drawn aside the curtain of the entrance 
 for an instant, they saw her lying listlessly 
 on a divan with a garland of faded red and 
 white water-lilies on her head, her face 
 gaudily painted, and wearing a chlamys of 
 white wool which was much in need of wash- 
 ing. The Essen looked weary with the 
 weariness of death. The dinginess of her 
 costume helped to produce this impression. 
 
 Andros watched with interest the effect 
 this private view at close quarters of her who 
 would presently ride abroad through the city 
 in a magnificent car would have on Isphar. 
 He was not particularly surprised to discover 
 that his friend from Salamis was inclined to 
 be a little satirical, and even sceptical as to 
 the genuineness of the forthcoming religious 
 procession as an act of worship to Diana. 
 
 Both men were broad-shouldered and 
 muscular, and when in the throng outside 
 the temple Isphar stood half a head above 
 those surrounding them. Although they
 
 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 119 
 
 were on the peaceful mission of sightseeing, 
 Andros had warned the Cyprian of the fickle 
 temper of the sometimes reckless gatherings 
 on the streets at the time of the Artemision. 
 He had provided his guest with a short, 
 sharp Damascus sword, and he wore one 
 himself. The two walked about among the 
 ever-increasing crowds until they came to 
 the eastern gate of the temple grounds. 
 
 "Canst tell me, stranger," said Isphar to 
 one of the many who were crowding up to 
 the gate, "which way the procession wends 
 to-night?" 
 
 "Stranger!" replied the one addressed, 
 "stranger! thou art the stranger! I am at 
 home in this great city. Be careful how thou 
 speakest. Thou art a Persian by thy dress, 
 but even a fire-worshipper is not allowed too 
 free a speech during our Artemision." 
 
 The burly visitor of Cyprus was amused. 
 He could, with ease, take the irate speaker 
 and throw him over the heads of the now 
 densely packed throng gathered at the gate. 
 
 "By Hercules! if thou art not civil " be- 
 gan Isphar, as he tried in the throng to put 
 his hand on his sword. 
 
 He received a warning pull of his sleeve 
 from Andros, who whispered in his ear: 
 
 "Be careful of thy speech, Isphar; these 
 people are intoxicated with pride of their 
 goddess just now. Remember thy dress pro- 
 claims thee a stranger." 
 
 "Thou art correct, I will be guarded."
 
 120 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 
 
 Turning to the citizen, he said: 
 
 "Friend, take no offense. I am the 
 stranger here, 'tis true. I seek but informa- 
 tion." 
 
 The angry man appeared mollified. 
 
 "I take no offense if thou intended none 
 and gladly tell thee what I know. I have 
 learned but now from one of the priests that 
 almost at once the procession starts and 
 comes through this gate. Then it will go 
 through the arches on the north side of the 
 city port, and then on through the suburbs 
 to the northern gate. It will wend its way 
 around the stadium, where the last of the 
 horse-races will take place to-morrow, then 
 go through the agora civilis and by the great 
 gymnasium. Passing through the other 
 agora, it will come back to the temple by 
 way of the colonnade on the south of the 
 city port. When the procession leaves the 
 great agora, fires are to be lighted at num- 
 berless points on the city side of Mount 
 Coressus. The sight will be worth thy view- 
 ing. Great is Diana! Thou art very for- 
 tunate, O Persian, to see the last great pro- 
 cession of the year." 
 
 "We thank thee for the information," said 
 Isphar. "Can we find a better vantage 
 ground than this?" 
 
 "Come ye both with me," said the erst- 
 while angry citizen, and he began to push 
 his way through the dense gathering. "I 
 am well known here, and as thou desirest to
 
 ISPHAR OF SALAMIS 121 
 
 tell the glories of our city when thou return- 
 est to thine own country, I can serve thee. 
 Seest thou that base of the porphyry column 
 yonder? It is yet unoccupied. It will cost 
 thee some silver, but doubtless ye both will 
 gladly pay for the privilege, on such a night 
 as this, of being high above the heads of the 
 people." 
 
 When the three reached the unoccupied 
 square base of the pillar, Andros put three 
 silver coins in the outstretched hand of a 
 minor functionary of the temple, who imme- 
 diately placed a short ladder in such a po- 
 sition that Andros, Isphar and their guide 
 could without difficulty take their positions 
 on the upper flat surface of the block. 
 
 From their elevated position they could 
 observe nearly the whole enclosed area be- 
 longing to the temple. For the space of 
 three hundred feet in every direction could 
 now be seen a densely packed sea of heads. 
 At their first view of the throng, all faces 
 were turned towards the temple door, which 
 had just been thrown open. All were strain- 
 ing their eyes to catch a glimpse of the head 
 of the procession emerge from the temple, 
 but for the present no one appeared. Dur- 
 ing the delay Andros and his friend had 
 leisure to study the immense throng.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 Many Roman visitors, distinguishable by 
 the whiteness of their togas, were present 
 to witness the last of the great processions 
 of the season. In marked contrast to these 
 were Sarmatian soldiers in tight-fitting scale 
 armor. Others wore buff leather tunics 
 with green skirts. Everywhere could be 
 seen the Phrygian cap which was the na- 
 tional headdress of all the Asian provinces 
 Mysia, Lydia, Caria, as well as Phrygia 
 itself. The common costume of the Lydians 
 was a yellow cap and a bright yellow tunic 
 reaching to the knee, over which was worn 
 on festival days a scarlet cloak. Dacians 
 were there, naked from the waist up, except 
 for a brown cloak of coarse cloth. Many 
 Persians of rank had gained entrance to the 
 enclosure. The warriors wore a towered 
 cylindrical head covering, with loose gar- 
 ments of white clasped by a golden girdle. 
 Here and there could be seen the silver- 
 scaled tight tunic which shone and glittered 
 in the light of the torches. Many a travel- 
 ling Greek in the throng wore the brown 
 toga virilis. A Roman officer's high brass 
 helmet, with its red comb of horsehair, was 
 
 122
 
 THE ARTEMISION 123 
 
 a conspicuous object as its wearer moved 
 among the throng. The Greek philosopher 
 was distinguished by his brown cloak and 
 dull blue tunic beneath. 
 
 On these occasions of festivity the women, 
 of whom there were a large number present 
 in the enclosure, and also the men of Ephe- 
 sus, wore ornamented tunics of different col- 
 ors, light-grey, pink, crimson, blue, white 
 and yellow, the latter, however, being the 
 predominant color. Here and there could 
 be seen the Ephesian nobleman with the lib- 
 erty cap ornamented with golden knops and 
 ear-lappets. The highly embroidered tunic 
 and close-fitting trousers in red and white 
 lozenge-shape -design, caused the wearers 
 to receive a certain amount of deference from 
 the people. 
 
 In contrast with the uncouth and un- 
 trimmed beards of the Parthians were the 
 Greeks, who took extreme care of their 
 beards, dressing and curling them with 
 heated irons, so that in many cases they re- 
 sembled the regularity of a honeycomb. 
 Country people, sightseeing, wore the skins 
 of animals across the left shoulder, leaving 
 the ri,eht arm bare. In a few cases could be 
 distinguished the dull gaberdine of the Jew, 
 who, forgetful of his religion, or impelled by 
 an overmastering curiosity, mixed with a 
 people devoted to the worship of a strange 
 god, or salved his conscience with the plea
 
 124 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 that it was necessary to take some wealthy 
 customer to the sightseeing. 
 
 Shouts and good-natured laughter and 
 songs, with the roar of a multitude of mov- 
 ing feet, filled the air with an avalanche of 
 sound. Tall flambeaux fixed on the walls 
 and pillars of the ambulacrum, and number- 
 less tall pine torches in and around the tem- 
 ple itself, shed a weird and not very adequate 
 light over the immense gathering. The dust, 
 caused by the movement of many feet on 
 the pavement, rose in clouds and penetrated 
 the throat and lungs of the three standing 
 on the base of the column. 
 
 " 'Tis a wonderful sight this gathering," 
 said Isphar, "but methinks that if I were a 
 Roman I should be unfaithful to Bacchus 
 were I to remain here much longer. I fain 
 would worship even now with a skin of 
 
 wine." 
 
 He began to stoop down, as if to look for 
 the ladder by which to descend from his 
 elevated position. 
 
 "Wait! wait! my impatient fire-worship- 
 per," said the voluntary guide, "wait a few 
 minutes more, for the procession cannot de- 
 lay much longer. See! see! they are fasten- 
 ing the oxen to the sacred car even now. 
 It is to bear the mother of the gods. See 
 how the beasts are garlanded with wreaths ! 
 How their golden horns shine in the light 
 of the torches!" 
 
 The guide appeared to take the keenest
 
 THE ARTEMISION 125 
 
 pleasure in the minutest details of the re- 
 ligious observance. As he spoke, a move- 
 ment of the vast throng in the court, and 
 especially of those near the temple, was 
 observed. 
 
 "Do not now give up your vantage point," 
 said Andros, "for the procession must pass 
 in front of us in order to go through the 
 gate here into the city." 
 
 Isphar, impatient of restraint as he was, 
 saw that he held a particularly advantageous 
 position, and notwithstanding his thirst, 
 decided to remain. 
 
 Meanwhile, a company of temple guards 
 had come down the ten steps of the temple, 
 and began to clear a way for the procession. 
 They were tall, strong men, far-eastern Asi- 
 atics, and their high cylindrical hats made 
 them appear taller. Each carried a long 
 staff or a good stout cudgel, and seemed to 
 know how to use it. A similar company 
 issued from the western door behind the 
 altar of Diana, through which Andros had 
 previously escaped. The two companies 
 worked towards each other on the north side 
 of the temple and soon cleared a way. 
 
 In a few minutes the ritual procession be- 
 gan to move in the direction of the gate near 
 which Andros and Isphar were standing. 
 First came the guards, dressed in Persian 
 fashion. These interested Isphar very much, 
 for although a native of Cyprus, he was of 
 Persian parentage and wore the national
 
 126 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 dress. The long coats of the guards reached 
 to the feet and were of various striped colors. 
 In some instances the stripes ran longitudi- 
 nally, in others horizontally. In front of the 
 high cylindrical hat each wore a large cres- 
 cent-shaped piece of metal, either of brass or 
 silver. It constituted the badge of servitude 
 to the temple of Diana Luna. 
 
 These were followed by about fifty Ephe- 
 sian youths of good families, in their tight- 
 fitting national costume, but without cloaks. 
 They wore tight-fitting trousers reaching to 
 the ankles and close vests with sleeves which 
 reached to the wrists. Many were dressed 
 in party colors, one leg and the opposite side 
 of the upper portion of the garment being 
 of one color, and the corresponding parts of 
 another. In other cases, the left side was 
 one color and the right another. White and 
 black, green and pink, brown and grey, black 
 and yellow, were some of the combinations 
 of colors of the dresses of this company of 
 dancers. 
 
 Immediately behind them were about 
 three dozen musicians, the throbbing of 
 whose drums and the crash of whose brass 
 crembalae sounded wildly above the shout- 
 ing and hurrahing of the throng. The shrill 
 call of the flutes, the rattle of the castanets 
 and the striking of the tambourines, added 
 rather to the noise than to the music of the 
 procession. The crude drums were made of 
 partially cured hides stretched over a frame-
 
 THE ARTEMISION 127 
 
 work of wood. They were beaten without 
 intermission. The music produced was bar- 
 baric and maddening, and appeared to be an 
 incentive to the unbridled license of the 
 night. 
 
 Behind these musicians came the first 
 company of corybantes, or dancing girls. 
 Their eyes were brightened and made to 
 appear larger by a liberal use of lead. Their 
 cheeks were painted with a brilliant red pig- 
 ment found in abundance in the neighbor- 
 hood of Ephesus. Many of these corybantes 
 wore crowns of water-lilies. Some wore one 
 large blossom over each ear. The more 
 active, or, correctly, the more violent, of the 
 dancers of this group provided themselves 
 with artificial lilies. The hair was loose and 
 rose and fell in waves as they danced. The 
 costumes of the dancing girls were Greek 
 in design. The dress was parted at the knee, 
 being held in position there by golden 
 buckles. Fastened at the waist, shoulders, 
 and to the bracelets at the wrists, were ample 
 folds of the muslin of Cos, which, when the 
 arms were waved about in the gyrations of 
 the dance, resembled the graceful fluttering 
 of a butterfly's wings. 
 
 The priests, who came next, were, in 
 reality, a scurvy looking set. By their ap- 
 pearance they amply bore out the general 
 impression of the criminality which was at- 
 tached to their name and office. They ap- 
 peared unkempt and uncouth. Their beards
 
 128 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 were, generally, long and untidy, their robes 
 unclean. Their appearance added nothing 
 to the aesthetic value of the procession. They 
 were, in fact, in the worship of Diana, merely 
 secondary functionaries, and their presence 
 at the rites was perfunctory. The real gov- 
 erning power and all the authority of the 
 temple, rivalling the civic authority, and to 
 some extent even the pro-consular lay, not 
 with the priests, but with the arch-priestess, 
 or Essen. 
 
 The distinctly aesthetic portion of the rit- 
 ual procession was found in the symbol 
 bearers, who immediately preceded the high 
 priestess. Among this group were fisher- 
 men bearing nets and fish; hunters with bow 
 and quiver, and some wearing antlers on 
 their heads; children carrying baskets of 
 fruit; young women representing nymphs 
 from the forests and streams. Some young 
 women wore on the head a crescent-shape 
 moon of silver from which flowed a silver- 
 spangled veil, completely enveloping the 
 person. Others wore a silver disc; others a 
 black disc, each representing some phase of 
 the moon, which was worshipped as Diana 
 the world over. 
 
 Many others wore masks to represent the 
 attendants who are supposed to surround 
 the goddess whom they served. Fauns, 
 satyrs, monstrous beings and men represent- 
 ing winged genii all danced before the tri- 
 umphal car of the Essen.
 
 THE ARTEMISION 129 
 
 Others represented abstract feelings by 
 means of large masks. Joy, laughter, grief, 
 dignity, vulgarity were represented in this 
 way, the artificial faces being works of no 
 inconsiderable artistic merit. The comic was 
 largely-in evidence, and these seemed to take 
 the popular fancy. Besides a number of 
 tragic masks, there were, in this large group 
 of mummers, those who wore masks sup- 
 posed to represent portraits of living or dead 
 personages. The thrysus, or spear, carried 
 by many persons in this group was merely a 
 reed. By this arrangement the frenzy of 
 the devotees was rendered harmless when 
 the dancing became orgiastic. 
 
 Immediately following this group of sym- 
 bol bearers came the white, garlanded car of 
 the high priestess. She was a tall woman 
 and appeared taller by the device of a high- 
 turreted golden crown, from which fell a 
 thin silver veil, flowing over a rich purple 
 robe which reached to her feet. She was 
 seated on a white throne and carried a 
 sceptre of gold tipped with a silver crescent 
 moon. Around her chariot were grouped a 
 large number of Melissse, or priestesses, and 
 many dancing girls. 
 
 The musicians who preceded the car 
 which contained a statue of Diana produced 
 a higher grade of music. Some carried the 
 phorminx, or large lyre; others, the cithara, 
 or smaller lyre; others, again, had lyres made 
 of tortoise-shell and called the chelys. These
 
 130 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 were struck without the plectrum. The bar- 
 bitos supplied the bass. This company of 
 players produced sweet but by no means 
 loud music. In this group of the choicest 
 temple musicians the flutes, cymbals and 
 drums were missing. 
 
 The statue of Diana used in the outdoor 
 processions was not so large as the one kept 
 behind the purple veil, which had caused so 
 much disgust and disappointment to Andros, 
 but was a much more beautiful work of art. 
 On these occasions it was adorned with the 
 most costly raiment. It was carried on a 
 cart drawn by a black and a white ox, sym- 
 bolical of the full and dark of the moon. 
 
 This statue was given Diana's Greek name 
 of Artemis, who was regarded as having the 
 power to cure diseases. Sometimes it was 
 designated Apis, from the beauty of her 
 countenance. The head and bust were of 
 purest alabaster. The former, on this occa- 
 sion, was crowned with a golden circlet, from 
 which was pendant a thin white veil which 
 fell over a golden chlamys fastened at the 
 shoulder with a jewelled clasp. Beneath the 
 chlamys was a long tunic of imperial pur- 
 ple, and beneath it was a robe of cloth-of- 
 gold reaching to the feet. Each hand was 
 supported with a golden rod, which helped 
 to keep the statue steady on the car when 
 the oxen became restive. In the bracelets 
 and armlets and in the golden circlet were
 
 THE ARTEMISION 131 
 
 innumerable jewels which glistened in the 
 light of the torches. 
 
 As the sacred car passed along, the en- 
 thusiasm of the people seemed to break all 
 bounds. Men and women raised their hands 
 on high and shouted: "Great is Diana! O 
 Artemis, hear us and cure our ills!" 
 
 During the Artemision festival there ap- 
 peared certain mock personages represent- 
 ing the gods. These followed in the wake 
 of Diana, as if to give her supreme honor in 
 her city of Ephesus. In the games in honor 
 of Jupiter at Antioch these mock deities re- 
 ceived divine honors, and there was some- 
 thing very similar practiced at Ephesus. 
 
 Behind the sacred car of Diana rode a 
 mock Jupiter, who during the whole month 
 of the festivities did not go home, or recline 
 upon a bed, but slept upon the ground in the 
 open air, on stones, or on a clean rug or rush 
 mats. This mock deity was surrounded by 
 attendants. He wore a robe as white as 
 snow and glittering with golden ornaments. 
 On his head was a crown of carbuncles, 
 pearls and other precious stones. He car- 
 ried a wand of white ivory and wore white 
 sandals. 
 
 A mock Apollo was robed in white, wear- 
 ing a credemon, or crown of golden laurel 
 leaves. A Mercury was similarly clad in a 
 white silk robe, and with a similar crown of 
 laurel. 
 
 Behind these came young women bearing
 
 132 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 ivy and vine branches in honor of Bacchus, 
 branches of poplar to represent Hercules, 
 bunches of wheat ears as typical of Ceres, 
 sprays of myrtle for Venus, fir twigs for the 
 fauns and sylvans, and reeds to represent the 
 river gods. 
 
 After these came more corybantes and 
 musicians. This last band of players, like 
 those at the head of the procession, seemed 
 to care more for noise than for music. The 
 sound of their rude drums, and the shrill 
 syrinx, or Pan's flutes, aroused the populace 
 to a delirium of madness. 
 
 During the passing of the procession 
 Ishpar became more and more excited. 
 When the last of the corybantes had danced 
 past the pedestal on which the three were 
 standing, he begged Andros to come with 
 him to the agora, or the gymnasium, or some 
 other place where he could view it all again. 
 Andros excused himself, saying that early 
 in the morning he had to go to the Silenusian 
 lakes to look after his fishing interests, but 
 recommended the guide who had procured 
 them their elevated position. 
 
 "Thou knowest my house," he said to the 
 guide; "bring back my friend Ishpar and 
 thou shalt be rewarded." 
 
 "I will not trouble thee or thy Ephesian 
 guide," said the visitor from Cyprus, who 
 was offended at the refusal of Andros, "I can 
 find my way alone. In the morning send my 
 umbrella bearer to the ship by which I re-
 
 THE ARTEMISION 133 
 
 turn. When thou comest to Salamis thou 
 shalt receive more hospitable entertain- 
 ment." 
 
 He was going to separate himself from 
 Andros in a fit of ill-temper. 
 
 "Stop! stop! my friend. No Ephesian, 
 during Diana's festival, will allow a charge 
 of that nature. Withdraw it, or thou wilt 
 force me to go with thee at my great incon- 
 venience, for I have many fishermen to look 
 after early to-morrow morning." 
 
 "As thou wilt, O ship-owner, but haste 
 thee in thy decision. The last of the dancers 
 have passed out of the temple grounds." 
 
 Andros, seeing that the Cyprian was 
 wholly infatuated with the sights of the eve- 
 ning and would probably follow the proces- 
 sion around the city until it returned to the 
 temple precincts, asked the guide whether 
 he would be willing to accompany the 
 stranger. The man agreed. 
 
 "Take good care of him. Remember the 
 town is full of deceits. Here is money to 
 secure the best positions. Thou knowest 
 my house. Bring him safely home. He will 
 never find his way there by himself. When 
 thou comest, thou mayest sleep in the atrium 
 until morning, when I will pay thee well for 
 thy trouble." 
 
 Turning to Isphar, he said: "Be not 
 angry, my welcome friend. It is impossible 
 for me to accompany thee farther. This
 
 134 THE ARTEMISION 
 
 guide will show thee all, and my steward 
 shall receive thee when thou returnest." 
 
 The merchant of Salamis was by this time 
 a little ashamed of his petulant manner. The 
 metropolis of Asia was a large city. The 
 noise and hurry of its inhabitants, whether 
 on business or pleasure bent, had excited 
 him all day. Not until the shouting ceased 
 and there was comparative quiet in the tem- 
 ple precincts did he realize that he had 
 spoken somewhat ungraciously to his host. 
 
 "Forgive me my hasty tongue, good mine 
 host. 'Twere ungracious not to recognize 
 thine hospitality. I will go with this young 
 man, and in the morning I will thank thee 
 again." 
 
 Isphar and the guide descended from the 
 
 marble block and hurried forward to over- 
 
 .take the procession. Andros waited until 
 
 the crowd had thinned somewhat and then 
 
 walked thoughtfully towards his house.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 STILL IN THE DARK 
 
 The traveller from Salamis did not return 
 that night to the house of Andros. Long 
 after daylight the next morning the guide to 
 whom he had been entrusted came to Andros 
 and told him that Isphar had partaken very 
 freely of wine on several occasions during 
 the evening, and, as the night advanced, be- 
 came disputatious, refusing to come back to 
 the house of his host, but insisting on being 
 guided to the vessel in which he had sailed. 
 
 "I will then postpone my visit to the lakes 
 and go to the city port and see after the com- 
 fort of my guest." 
 
 "That will avail thee little for hours to 
 come," replied the guide, "for it was long 
 after dawn before Isphar was safely on the 
 sailing vessel. I warrant me he will sleep 
 soundly until the sun sinks into the western 
 sea." 
 
 "Was he very drunk?" 
 
 "So much so," said the other, laughing, 
 "that although he could sit in the boat safely 
 enough, when we arrived at the vessel's side 
 he was incapable of climbing the ladder. I 
 called to the sailors, who recognized him, 
 and four of them lifted him to the deck. 
 
 135
 
 136 STILL IN THE DARK 
 
 There he lies now on a sail, so fast asleep 
 that Jove's thunder would not rouse him." 
 
 "Go back to the vessel," said Andros, "and 
 tell the captain to be careful of his comfort. 
 Let him rig a sail for shade. Tell him to 
 supply him with good wine when he awak- 
 ens, and send a messenger to me when that 
 occurs." 
 
 While waiting for the messenger, Andros 
 thought deeply and long over the preceding 
 night's procession and the orgies which he 
 knew had followed. 
 
 Never had the city been more enthusiastic 
 over the spring festival, and never had there 
 appeared greater indecencies on the streets. 
 The whole populace seemed to have given 
 itself over to one vast orgy. As he slowly 
 wended his way homeward amid the eddy- 
 ing crowds of men and women, he had seen 
 but few sober people on the streets. Ribald 
 songs and excesses offended the eye and ear. 
 
 Andros was more disgusted than ever with 
 it all. He was ill at ease with himself. 
 Something was stirring within him the like 
 of which he had never experienced before. 
 There was an awakened feeling in his breast, 
 but it was wholly condemnatory, and he did 
 not understand it. Never before had the 
 still, small, persistent voice been so loud. 
 The acquaintance with the family of Elymas 
 had opened up to his mind the possibility of a 
 new way of living, which he admitted was 
 more consistent with the dictates of reason
 
 STILL IN THE DARK 137 
 
 than the life he had hitherto followed, 
 although that had been, perhaps, above the 
 average of the morality of the citizens of 
 Ephesus, especially in integrity and in clean- 
 ness of life. 
 
 But why should the being present at the 
 ritual procession an action which he had 
 performed ever since he was old enough to 
 be alone on the streets why should the 
 being present on this particular occasion 
 cause him so much uneasiness? Was his 
 love-sickness causing him to become woman- 
 ish? Womanish! Had there not been as 
 many women on the streets as men on the 
 previous night? Did not the women of 
 Ephesus, during the festival, vie with the 
 men in excesses in the so-called honoring of 
 Diana? 
 
 Was he becoming morbid? he asked him- 
 self. This regret in his breast was an actual 
 thing to him, and do what he would he could 
 not get rid of the new experience. "Pshaw !" 
 he said to himself, "I am an Ephesian. I 
 have been brought up in the cultus of Diana. 
 Am I going to give it up? What was good 
 enough for my forefathers is surely good 
 enough for me. All these recent thoughts 
 are mere foolishness. I will go to the temple 
 and offer incense, and then my mind will be 
 once more at ease." 
 
 He started out in the direction of the tem- 
 ple, his mind full of conflicting thoughts. 
 He walked slowly, with bent head, and ob-
 
 138 STILL IN THE DARK 
 
 servant of little. Suddenly he was vaguely 
 conscious of some one shouting. Pulling 
 himself together with an effort, he realized 
 that the shouting was directed at him. 
 
 "Justice! justice! pay me for my loss! 
 'Twas thou that overthrew my basket of 
 cakes and sweet paste. Pay! pay! or I shall 
 take thee before the tribunal." 
 
 Andros realized that it was the old cake- 
 seller whom he had upset when escaping 
 from the temple two weeks before. A flash 
 of amusement crossed his face at the remem- 
 brance of the catastrophe that had befallen 
 the ragged old vendor. 
 
 "Pay! pay! I have sought thee every- 
 where. Now I have thee. If thou payest 
 not for my loss, thou goest straight to the 
 city chancellor." 
 
 "Canst thou prove it was I?" asked 
 Andros, good humoredly. 
 
 "That can I. I know thee well Andros 
 the fish merchant and owner of ships. Times 
 are changed indeed from thy father's time. 
 He would not have used an old man so." 
 
 "Didst thou know him?" 
 
 "Aye, aye; a good, kind man to such as I. 
 But thou payest for my loss." 
 
 "Wait one moment, friend. Canst thou 
 prove that I was the cause of it?" 
 
 "Surely I can. Didst thou not knock the 
 basket from my head and send my wares to 
 the dust?" 
 
 "Thou sayest that I did. Art thou sure?"
 
 STILL IN THE DARK 139 
 
 "Of course I am sure. Do not all men 
 know thee in Ephesus?" 
 
 "Well, that may be so. But canst thou 
 prove that I was responsible for thy loss?" 
 
 "Responsible! By the great goddess! 
 Thou didst it, didst thou not?" 
 
 "That is not the question. Was I respon- 
 sible for the doing?" 
 
 The angry old street merchant seemed a 
 little puzzled. He paused a minute in his 
 urgent demands, as if to settle the responsi- 
 bility in his mind. 
 
 ^ 
 
 "Thou sawest me coming running very 
 fast. Did I not beckon to thee to stand out 
 of the way? Others gave me clear space. 
 Thou wert either too perverse or too stupid 
 to do the same." 
 
 "But I" 
 
 "Wait. Am I justly held responsible for 
 a loss caused by thine own perversity, or thy 
 stupidity? Answer me that." 
 
 "But thou destroyedst my living. I fasted 
 that night, and it was the festival time, too." 
 
 "That I am sorry for, but with whom lies 
 the blame?" 
 
 "I lost my cakes," persisted the old man. 
 
 "Answer this other question. Do not the 
 laws of Ephesus permit that sports foot- 
 races, boxing, and other games take place 
 in the public streets during Artemision?" 
 
 "Most certainly." 
 
 "Well, then, was I not engaged in a law- 
 ful occupation on that afternoon. Remem-
 
 140 STILL IN THE DARK 
 
 ber thou wert not in the temple grounds, 
 but outside the gate, therefore in the city 
 street where the law holds. I was engaged 
 in a foot-race for a certainty ('The motive 
 of that race is neither here nor there,' he 
 added sotto voce) therefore thou shouldst 
 have gotten out of my way." 
 
 The old man saw he was caught. He 
 paused for some moments, while Andros 
 looked on with an amused smile. 
 
 "I am old, and do not see well," said the 
 cake-seller. "I was confused at the shout- 
 ing; I did not know which way to turn quick 
 enough, and so I stood still." 
 
 From imperative he had become meek 
 and almost pleading. Andros was a little 
 touched at the old man's trouble. He did 
 not wish to be harsh. Since his love for 
 Lydda had become a real thing in his life, 
 his sympathy for others had increased. 
 "That is well," he said, not unkindly. "Since 
 thou admittest that I was not responsible 
 for the accident, I will tell thee what I will 
 do. I will not pay thee, on principle. But 
 I give thee enough gold to keep thee from 
 want. Take this, and when it is gone come 
 to me again." 
 
 It took the old vendor of sweetmeats some 
 little time to realize his good fortune. He 
 was then as profuse in his expressions of 
 gratitude as his former demands had been 
 importunate. The doer of this kindly act, 
 in order to escape the praise that was being
 
 STILL IN THE DARK 141 
 
 showered on him by the cake-seller, and the 
 complimentary remarks of those who had 
 listened to the dialogue, moved away. 
 
 This incident gave a different direction to 
 his thoughts. Instead of going straight to 
 the temple, he paused in his walk. The meet- 
 ing of the old street merchant had recalled 
 his mind back to his disappointment and his 
 disgust at the first sight of the statue behind 
 the veil. All his repugnance to the worship, 
 or, as he understood it, the abuse of that 
 worship, returned. Instead of walking 
 toward the temple, as was his first intention, 
 he found himself at the end of the street 
 along which he had run when fleeing for his 
 life. He now determined to continue his 
 walk to the house of Pelopidas, for he had 
 many questions to put to Elymas.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 SOWING THE SEED 
 
 "Dost thou think, good Elymas," said 
 Andros after he had been welcomed by his 
 friend, "that I did wrong yesternight in wit- 
 nessing the rites of Diana?" 
 
 "Hadst thou any doubt as to the rectitude 
 of thy actions?" asked Elymas. 
 
 "I hardly know, my faithful friend. Let 
 me explain the condition of my mind. Thou 
 must know that since my brief sojourn in 
 thy family, and even before that time, I have 
 experienced a repugnance to the orgies I see 
 all around me. Such debaucheries seem not 
 compatible with the dignity of one who pos- 
 sesses reason, which is surely a spark an 
 emanation of the deity. Is it not so?" 
 
 "Reason is one of the highest gifts of the 
 deity to man, but it is not an emanation from 
 the deity." 
 
 "It is so godlike or what we suppose to 
 be godlike a quality in man that to me it 
 seems that it must be of divine origin." 
 
 "It is, but not therefore divine itself. The 
 deity is indivisible, and therefore could not, 
 as it were, separate particles of himself and 
 implant them in our souls. But proceed, 
 Andros, with thy story." 
 
 142
 
 SOWING THE SEED 143 
 
 "My repugnance to the coarseness of our 
 worship is, at times, intense; at other times 
 there is the return of the habit of a lifetime, 
 and I take all for granted and say what is, 
 is right. But when I am alone, and unin- 
 fluenced by exterior surroundings or by any 
 ulterior motive within when, in fact, I am 
 in a normal, rational state, the falsity of our 
 worship overwhelms me. After such cogi- 
 tations, in which I feel myself lifted out of 
 myself, when I go back to the religious prac- 
 tices of my ancestors I am unhappy. Why 
 is this, O Elymas? Why should I not have 
 peace in my heart instead of an upbraiding 
 sense of having done something wrong?" 
 
 "It is the voice of conscience speaking in 
 you, Andros." 
 
 "Conscience! What is conscience?" 
 
 "When thou hast done some good action 
 some noble deed wert thou not happy 
 afterwards? Was there not an approving 
 sense within thee?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," replied the other. "I gave old 
 Cleon some gold just now. I at once felt 
 happier for it. Perhaps it was at seeing the 
 old man's tears of gratitude and hearing the 
 plaudits of those who witnessed my deed. I 
 know not." 
 
 "That was legitimate pleasure, but not the 
 real cause of thy happiness. It came from 
 an approving conscience." 
 
 "But what is conscience? Where does it 
 reside? Can I gain or lose it?"
 
 144 SOWING THE SEED 
 
 "It is, good friend, an inward monitor of 
 the soul, planted in the breast of every 
 human being by the great God." 
 
 "By Diana or Jupiter?" 
 
 "No, no. By the great and only God, the 
 Creator of all things." 
 
 "Great and only God! I do not under- 
 stand. The world is full of gods. Every 
 nation has its own, either god or goddess. 
 As thou knowest, the fame of our goddess is 
 world-wide." 
 
 "If thou continuest to favor us with thy 
 visits I will explain that in good time. Let 
 me proceed with the question of conscience. 
 If thou wilt look back upon thy experience 
 thou wilt see that thou hast always possessed 
 it. It is supreme and beyond our domestic 
 life; it transcends our civil and political life; 
 it is even supreme to religion itself. What 
 it says, thou must perforce follow. As often 
 as, through pride or passion or any other 
 evil propensity, thou goest against it, thou 
 art unhappy. It will not let thee rest. Is it 
 not true that in following its dictates thou 
 findest peace?" 
 
 Andros was silent for some minutes, nor 
 did Elymas interrupt his thoughts. He de- 
 sired that what he had said should sink deep 
 into his friend's consciousness. At length 
 Andros broke the silence: 
 
 "I believe thou art right. I certainly am 
 happier when I am doing good, and there is 
 something within me that approves. On the
 
 SOWING THE SEED 145 
 
 contrary, when I give way to furious anger 
 there is, again, something within me that 
 tells me I am acting in an unmanly way. 
 When I indulge in too much Pramnian wine, 
 there is something which reproves. "Tis pre- 
 cisely this uneasy feeling within me that led 
 me to doubt of the correctness of a worship 
 which sanctions and openly advocates and 
 practices drunkenness as an overt act of 
 religious worship to a deity." 
 
 "Then, to come back to thy first question, 
 didst thou do wrong last night in witnessing 
 the ritual procession? I say the answer is 
 found in thine own breast. Thy conscience 
 upbraided thee, and it does so yet; therefore, 
 thou didst wrong." 
 
 "I am sorry," said Andros, simply. 
 
 "That is good, my friend. Because thou 
 art sorry thou wilt not offend again." 
 
 "Why dost thou desire that I go not again 
 to the temple, good Elymas?" asked Andros. 
 "Thou seemest to take as much interest in 
 me as in thine own sons. Why art thou so 
 kind?" 
 
 "Because I see in thee an image and like- 
 ness of a mysterious Being, and in being 
 good and kind to thee, I am good towards 
 Him, my friend." 
 
 "A mysterious being in me! Am I pos- 
 sessed by a divinity! Thou surely dost not 
 say that I am a god. I know thou wouldst 
 not flatter. What dost thou mean?" 
 
 "I did not say that thou art or hast a 
 10
 
 146 SOWING THE SEED 
 
 divinity, but I said thou hast within thee the 
 likeness of something divine. Thou hast a 
 soul." 
 
 "That Socrates and Plato have taught me. 
 What then?" 
 
 "That soul is immortal and will live on 
 for eons of time after thy body shall have 
 crumbled into dust. It will some day be 
 reunited to thy body and both shall be happy 
 or miserable for all eternity." 
 
 "But how knowest thou that this soul of 
 mine shall last forever?" 
 
 "Because, good friend, of thy unfulfilled 
 capacity for happiness." 
 
 Andros looked up with a momentary anger 
 in his eyes. He thought that Elymas was 
 amusing himself at his expense. At the mo- 
 ment he was in far too serious a mood for 
 trifling, and he began to experience a feeling 
 of resentment. 
 
 Looking sharply, however, at the serious, 
 placid face of Elymas he became convinced 
 of his mistake. 
 
 "I thought thou wert making sport of me, 
 but now I know thou art not." 
 
 "It will ill become me to trifle on so serious 
 a subject," said Elymas. 
 
 "Proceed, my friend. Let me know thine 
 argument." 
 
 "Were Abdiel here he would speak better 
 than I. I would he were here. I said the 
 soul is proved to be immortal from its pres- 
 ent unfulfilled capacity for complete happi-
 
 SOWING THE SEED 147 
 
 ness. God would have wrought in vain in 
 giving this capacity if He were not able to 
 satisfy it. Didst thou ever see a man per- 
 fectly happy, Andros?" 
 
 Andros thought for some time. At length 
 he said: 
 
 "I have been very happy, thanks to the 
 goddess, at least for a time." 
 
 "For a time! But didst thou never feel 
 that it is within thee to enjoy greater things 
 and be still happier than thou hast yet ever 
 been? Was thine own capacity ever satis- 
 fied?" 
 
 "Alas, no ! There have always been dregs 
 in my cup of pleasure, or the desired pleas- 
 ure has been unattainable." 
 
 "But if the Supreme Being has placed that 
 capacity in thy soul must He not satisfy it, 
 either here or hereafter?" 
 
 "It would seem so, unless He is not all- 
 efficient." 
 
 "Granting that thy answer is true, and 
 granting that this capacity within thee, ac- 
 cording to thine own words, has never been 
 satisfied in this life, does it not follow that it 
 must be in the next?" 
 
 "Most certainly." 
 
 "Then, on the theory of an unsatisfied 
 capacity for happiness, thou grantest a life 
 after this one?" 
 
 "I must, perforce. But may not the soul, 
 after it has crossed the Styx, have this
 
 148 SOWING THE SEED 
 
 capacity for infinite happiness satisfied, and 
 then when once satisfied, cease to exist?" 
 
 "No, for there would be a contradiction. 
 If in the next world I have the foreboding 
 fear of annihilation forever looming up on 
 my horizon, would I be said to enjoy com- 
 plete happiness? Dost thou not realize that 
 existence is our greatest good, and non-exist- 
 ence the greatest of all possible evils? If, 
 then, I had always the fear of ceasing to be 
 this greatest of all evils constantly before 
 me, how could I be completely happy, or 
 even happy at all? Canst thou not see that 
 the soul, by its very capacity for complete 
 happiness, must last forever, and so is 
 immortal?" 
 
 Andros was too intelligent not to grasp 
 the argument, and too honest not to ac- 
 quiesce. "I see, I see," he cried, "thanks to 
 thee, my good friend. Thou hast given me 
 a new consolation. Thy statement that the 
 body, although crumbled into dust, will one 
 day be reunited to the soul has no diffi- 
 culty for me. I love my body, and as I am 
 destined to complete happiness I must get it 
 back again at some time, or the happiness 
 of my soul would lack its completeness and 
 I should be dissatisfied. I see it all now." 
 
 "See, then, Andros, that thou so live that 
 thou finally miss not this completion of hap- 
 piness of which thou possessest so great a 
 capacity."
 
 SOWING THE SEED 149 
 
 "How can I miss it? It must necessarily 
 
 come." 
 
 He was elated with the great thought 
 something more sublime than had ever en- 
 tered his mind before. Yet, amid his enthu- 
 siasm, Elymas detected a tinge of fatalism. 
 
 "Couldst thou not, Andros, have remained 
 away from the temple grounds last night?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Most certainly." 
 
 "And couldst thou not have gone this 
 afternoon to the Silenusian lakes, hadst thou 
 chosen, instead of giving us the pleasure of 
 thy company?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," answered Andros. 
 
 "Canst thou not walk to the right or the 
 left, as pleaseth thee?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What follows from this power of 
 choice?" 
 
 "That my will is free. I can do or not do, 
 as I will." 
 
 "Yet, remember the object of the will is 
 the good, which it must always desire. 
 Whatever we desire, we desire under some' 
 form of good. In the order of our moral 
 actions our conscience is the monitor and 
 guide, and it will save us from being de- 
 ceived. If, under the appearance of some 
 good to be obtained, we do wrong, conscience 
 will chide and check us and lead us, finally, 
 to attain our greatest good, which is com- 
 plete happiness. When we disregard this
 
 150 SOWING THE SEED 
 
 inward monitor we go astray, and must 
 either retrace our steps, or, continuing to 
 go against it, never reach the complete hap- 
 piness of which we have been speaking. So 
 you see that although this capacity for com- 
 plete happiness has been given to you, it is 
 possible never to reach it." 
 
 "But a man would be a fool to put ob- 
 stacles in the way of reaching it!" 
 
 "Precisely, and that is what he does when 
 he acts against his conscience." 
 
 "Thou hast given me many things to think 
 about, Elymas. I will walk alone and think 
 them over. I had intended to spend the 
 evening with thy family, but these great 
 thoughts now revolving in my mind would 
 make me a poor and distracted visitor. I will 
 come again," and without even going into 
 the house, he immediately walked away 
 towards his home.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 
 
 When Aratus left the cave of Arachne, 
 a little distance off the main travelled road 
 to Magnesia, and discovered that the two 
 sailors had deserted him, he was very much 
 frightened. He also feared that the witch 
 would release her terrible hound. There 
 were known to exist in the surrounding low 
 hills companies of robber bands who fre- 
 quently and with startling boldness waylaid 
 travellers. 
 
 More than once, recently, had the pro- 
 consul sent out detachments of soldiers to 
 rid the neighborhood, but in some mysterious 
 way the bandits always gathered again soon 
 after their dispersion. The wise ones of the 
 city winked at each other and hinted that 
 the pro-consular purse was not growing 
 lighter. 
 
 The wine Aratus had taken had given him 
 sufficient courage to face the witch in her 
 cave, but as its effects died away on his 
 homeward journey, he became more and 
 more frightened, starting at his own shadow 
 and fearful of the noises of the night. The 
 hooting of an owl set him trembling, and the 
 
 151
 
 152 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 
 
 cry of the young foxes in the hills made his 
 flesh creep. 
 
 Nothing but the desperate condition of 
 his purse and his vanishing credit could have 
 induced him to consult the old woman. He 
 had not bargained for the solitary journey 
 back to the city. He even feared, and with 
 good reason, that the two ruffianly sailors 
 whom he had paid to escort him would be 
 waiting for him in some lonely spot, and 
 perhaps murder him. He deserted the main 
 travelled road and ran from boulder to boul- 
 der, from tree to tree, as he made his way 
 homeward. 
 
 By one of those singular chances which 
 sometimes come to cowards he was not mo- 
 lested. When he approached the city gate 
 his courage revived and his thoughts at once 
 reverted to his plan of wreaking vengeance 
 on Andros. He had not settled upon any 
 definite mode of action. He hugged the 
 precious vial, which he had hidden in the 
 fold of his tunic, and gloated over its 
 potency. Should he administer merely the 
 two or three drops, or should he give more 
 to his enemy when the occasion offered? 
 
 With still no definitely formulated plan in 
 his mind he sauntered, two days later, into 
 the workshop of Demetrius, the silversmith. 
 He was known to most of the workmen and 
 passed freely in and out among them, nod- 
 ding to one and chatting to another as he 
 went.
 
 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 153 
 
 It was now near the end of the festival 
 season. Most of the artisans, having had 
 sufficient pleasure and amusement, were 
 again at their work-benches. Some were 
 busy making chalk or clay moulds or mod- 
 els. Others were attending to small port- 
 able furnaces in which they were melting 
 silver to run into the smaller moulds. In 
 another part of the shop men were engaged 
 in chiselling or rasping the rough portions 
 of small statues which were sufficiently cool 
 to be handled. Others were polishing the 
 almost finished product of the workshop. It 
 was a busy scene. Some thirty men were at 
 different occupations. 
 
 The walls of the room were ornamented 
 with various models of Diana in clay, and 
 in Pion marble. She was represented as 
 the Huntress, as Magos, the goddess of 
 magic, or as Hecate, crowned with snakes 
 and wearing a bearskin. Bows, quivers, ar- 
 rows and other symbols of the goddess were 
 arranged on the walls, with nets and antlers 
 and shields. Models of dogs and deer were 
 placed here and there in conspicuous places 
 for the benefit of the artists who made the 
 statues in "miniature for the famous house- 
 hold shrines. 
 
 Rhytons, or drinking horns, terminating 
 in a greyhound's head, armlets, eagle-tipped 
 sceptres, fans, sandals, sacrificial knives and 
 cases adorned the walls and shelves. A 
 sample of almost every personal adornment,
 
 154 AN EPHHSIAN ATELIER 
 
 Grecian or Roman, was found in this work- 
 shop or studio. Demetrius gave his artists 
 and designers full liberty in the execution of 
 their work, and in consequence the place 
 was filled with many things that might sug- 
 gest new designs or new poses for statues, 
 which were first moulded in clay and then 
 copied in silver. As a good Ephesian, 
 Demetrius was a devoted worshipper of 
 Diana, yet that did not prevent him from 
 taking orders for shrines for any other of 
 the gods. His workshop, therefore, re- 
 sembled a museum of valuable and curious 
 models of many gods. 
 
 Many of the workmen who were not inti- 
 mate with him regarded Aratus as a wealthy 
 Ephesian of leisure, for he always managed 
 to dress as one of the wealthier class. There 
 were but one or two among them who knew 
 his exact financial standing, and how his few 
 acres of vine-lands barely sufficed to keep 
 him in straightened idleness. These knew 
 of his ambitions in the way of making a 
 wealthy marriage with the daughter of Mel- 
 lanides, but they also knew that his chances 
 of success were of the slightest. These two 
 workmen were aware that Andros was bv 
 
 r 
 
 far the greater favorite with Mellanides, and 
 both believed that the old soldier's daughter 
 looked with favoring eye on him who had 
 recently saved her life. Andros was popular 
 in the workshop, for he was free with silver
 
 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 155 
 
 coins for wine among the workmen. Aratus 
 never untied his purse-strings there. 
 
 "How are thy friends, the Hebrews, to- 
 day, Aratus?" asked Callus, the elder of the 
 two w r ho knew of his financial condition. 
 
 "What is that to thee? I have no friends 
 who are Jews?" 
 
 "Nevertheless, as report goes, they are 
 kind to thee. Thou must offer them a good 
 security for their loans." 
 
 "How knowest thou that I borrow from 
 them? I tell not my affairs to workmen," 
 he said, superciliously. 
 
 "Thou hast no need," replied Callus, a 
 little viciously; "thine affairs are well known. 
 Thinkest thou that the people on the agora 
 know not what passes where money is con- 
 cerned?" 
 
 "Yes," remarked the second workman, 
 "the slimness of thy purse is as well known 
 by those who wish to know as if thou hadst 
 sent a herald to proclaim it." 
 
 "Thou follower of Mercury !* Canst thou 
 not speak the truth for once, thou man of 
 three letters. f Thou knowest nought of 
 my affairs. I tell not mine affairs to work- 
 men," and he began arranging his toga virilis 
 with affectation. 
 
 "Thou hast no need to do so. Working- 
 men honest workingmen who are not 
 afraid to labor for their living, nor too idle, 
 
 *Liar. fFur, thief.
 
 156 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 
 
 often find out things that those who ape 
 patricians without the patricians' wealth 
 would not for worlds have known." 
 
 "By Hecate's dogs, thou insultest me. 
 I will have thee whipped. I will have 
 Demetrius discharge thee. I will drag thee 
 before the Chancellor's tribunal for slander 
 I I will" 
 
 Callus and his companion burst into a 
 hearty and amused laugh. They never took 
 Aratus seriously. He grew more angry. 
 
 "Listen, thou poor vine-grower," con- 
 tinued the artisan, "listen. Thou wilt never 
 marry the beautiful Lydda, daughter of Mel- 
 lanides. Thy chances grow less and less 
 each day. The Jews know this. They are 
 well informed. Thou hast borrowed thy last 
 gold piece from every Jew in Ephesus. Thy 
 credit is gone. Even Arachne's potion will 
 not avail thee. We know thou didst run 
 from rock to rock on thy return like a fright- 
 ened hare. Thou needest not be so fearful. 
 The gods, when they reserve a man for a 
 worse fate, will not let brigands slit his 
 throat. If thou art born to be hanged thou 
 wilt never be drowned." 
 
 Aratus was now furious. He could not 
 understand how these men of Demetrius' 
 shop had learned so much about him and his 
 recent movements, and his only partially 
 formed designs. He did not know that much 
 of what they had said was good guesswork. 
 He forgot that the workshop of Demetrius
 
 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 157 
 
 and the pleasant garden around it were the 
 resort of many of the wealthier people of 
 Ephesus, where the transactions of the 
 money lenders were freely discussed, and 
 often within the hearing of the workmen. 
 
 Callus and his companion were good- 
 natured, and would often have given Aratus 
 hints that might have turned to his own 
 benefit, but the latter was vain and super- 
 cilious and they knew that he pretended to a 
 station far above their own. They were 
 aware of the slimness of the income upon 
 which he was living as a man of leisure. At 
 first they were amused, but when he assumed 
 the airs of a patrician, they became annoyed 
 and often vexed him with cutting speeches. 
 
 This time they had spoken with more 
 venom than they had ever done before, and 
 Aratus was extremely angry. He turned 
 away from his two tormentors with some- 
 thing very like a curse upon his lips, to which 
 they responded with a hearty laugh as they 
 again gave their attention to the fashioning 
 of clay models. 
 
 In turning hastily, Aratus almost ran into 
 the arms of Demetrius. 
 
 "The gods be praised! Thou art, O Ara- 
 tus, an early patron. The Jews say an early 
 customer bringeth good fortune. Ten of my 
 patrons come at the third hour of the morn- 
 ing to walk in my garden. Hast left an 
 order with Callus for a statue of Diana to 
 weigh a thousand ounces of silver? Callus
 
 158 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 
 
 is honest. Thy statue shall correspond in 
 weight to thy supply of silver. It shall dis- 
 place as much water as the unwrought ma- 
 terial. Oh, Callus is honest. He would not 
 cheat thee of an obolus." 
 
 The silversmith amused himself. It was 
 often a source of amusement to Demetrius, 
 to watch the airs of his visitor and see him 
 attempt to play the lordly patrician. 
 
 "No, O silversmith," replied Aratus, who 
 could never discover when he was being 
 quizzed and received all remarks addressed 
 to him seriously. "No, I am not thinking 
 to-day of leaving such an order. Some other 
 time " and he waved his hand as if dis- 
 missing a subject too trivial to waste much 
 time over. 
 
 "Dear me! dear me!" said Demetrius, in 
 a half comical way, "we have taken no order 
 of consequence all the Artemision. Let me 
 sell thee this shrine of Diana. Thou shalt 
 have it for its weight in silver and one-third 
 its weight in the same metal for the cost of 
 workmanship. It weighs not more than 
 three hundred ounces." 
 
 Still unable to see that he was being 
 laughed at, Aratus again seriously refused 
 to purchase. Demetrius continued: 
 
 "Ha! what shrine have I been offering 
 thee? It is fortunate thou didst not desire 
 to buy this particular statue, as it has been 
 purchased by thy friend Andros, who in- 
 tends to present it to the daughter of Mel-
 
 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 159 
 
 lanides on her birthday next month. It will 
 cost him nearly a year's profits of his fish- 
 eries." 
 
 "Friend !" said Aratus sneeringly. 
 
 Demetrius saw with amusement the look 
 of intense anger come over the face of his 
 visitor. 
 
 "Friend! I tell thee he is mine enemy. I 
 would that he were out of my way." 
 
 "He was once, lately, very nearly out of 
 thy way for all time," said Demetrius, laugh- 
 ing now at the remembrance of his former 
 anger and of the chase he had caused to be 
 given after Andros at the memorable visit to 
 the temple. The silversmith had soon re- 
 garded the whole affair as trifling and bore 
 no ill-will toward Andros, remembering 
 that he had been in a state of religious 
 frenzy at the time. As soon as the excite- 
 ment subsided, he had been rather pleased 
 than otherwise that no harm had befallen 
 Andros. 
 
 "Out of my way! Would that it were so! 
 How sayest thou?" 
 
 Demetrius gave him the full details of the 
 incident of the temple. As the recital pro- 
 ceeded the listener became very much ex- 
 cited. His eyes shone with anticipated re- 
 venge. He would set the priests of Diana 
 on the scent of this blasphemy. He would 
 denounce the traitor. He would now sweep 
 him aside from his path. After all, there 
 would be no need to use the dread potion of
 
 160 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 
 
 Arachne. At this, notwithstanding his 
 anger, he felt relieved, for he dreaded the 
 taking of a man's life, and he knew he could 
 not trust himself to administer two or three 
 drops only of the poison. 
 
 "He blasphemed the goddess! Ho! ho! 
 He shall pay for it ! Now I have caught him. 
 At length the opportunity has come. A rene- 
 gade from the worship of Ephesus!" 
 
 "Be not too sure of that," said Demetrius, 
 somewhat nettled, for he saw that Aratus 
 was capable of making mischief. "This does 
 not look as if Andros were rejecting, or even 
 neglecting, the religion of Diana." He point- 
 ed to the valuable silver shrine. 
 
 "I know he was present at the last ritual 
 procession, for Callus saw him on the pedes- 
 tal of one of the pillars near the gate, with 
 one of his customers from Cyprus. The 
 priests know of this escapade, and long ago 
 he has ingratiated himself with them. He 
 will not be molested. He has lined their 
 purse with silver, I suppose. He is in good 
 favor again, at all events, and thy efforts to 
 hurt him in that direction will be like the 
 waves dashing against a rock. The rock 
 remains unmoved." 
 
 "But he blasphemed" 
 
 "Which has been forgiven and forgotten 
 by the priests long ago. Thou canst not 
 harm him there. Thou must look in another 
 direction to vent thy spleen." 
 
 "Spleen!" said Aratus, indignantly.
 
 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 161 
 
 "Yes, friend, thy spleen. Every one knows 
 thou are envious of Andros on account of 
 the favor with which he is received in the 
 house of Mellanides. Be fair. Be a man. 
 Win her, if thou canst, by honorable means. 
 I know thy family. It would grieve thy 
 father, were he living now, if he saw his own 
 son using dishonorable means of getting rid 
 of a rival. Do not start! Every one in Ephe- 
 sus the Jew money lenders especially 
 knows of thy love affair. Act the part of 
 a man, and let the better man win, I say." 
 
 With this sound admonition Demetrius 
 walked away to give some directions to a 
 workman at the other end of the long room. 
 The two, during this talk, had stood very 
 near a large furnace in one corner. There 
 was a man at the bellows now busily work- 
 ing them. He was within earshot, and by 
 not letting the leather of the bellows creak 
 and groan more than was absolutely neces- 
 sary, had heard all that passed between Ara- 
 tus and his master. When the master went 
 away, he said in a low voice to Aratus: 
 
 "That plan has failed, but it is in my 
 power to help thee." 
 
 Aratus looked around and saw a thickset 
 man, with broad shoulders and long sinewy 
 arms of remarkable strength. His muscles 
 stood out in great knots. The fingers, grimy 
 and dirty from his occupation, were long 
 and very powerful, and as they twitched, and 
 
 closed and opened again, Aratus felt that his 
 n
 
 162 AN EPHESIAN ATELIER 
 
 chance of surviving would be slim were they 
 once wound around his throat. The dwarf's 
 head appeared enormously large, and was 
 covered with a crop of coarse black hair, the 
 roots of which grew far down on his low 
 forehead, which was blackened from the 
 smoke of the furnace. Bushy and protrud- 
 ing eyebrows shaded a pair of glaring promi- 
 nent eyes full of malice and the worst pas- 
 sions of man. His tunic had been thrown 
 aside, and the under garment was open and 
 exposed a hairy chest. The grotesque fig- 
 ure had more the resemblance of a beast 
 than a man. 
 
 "Who art thou?" said Aratus, stepping 
 back a couple of paces. 
 
 "Coward! why dost thou retreat? Art 
 afraid of an ugly form, and yet wouldst put 
 a rival out of thy path!" 
 
 "Who art thou?" 
 
 "A dense Scythian forest hid the hut 
 where I was born. But that is naught to 
 thee. I can help thee if thou wilt. It is in 
 my power." 
 
 "What canst thou do?" 
 
 "If thou wouldst know, meet me at the 
 fountain in the agora venalis, where I eat 
 my bread and figs at the hour of noon." 
 
 The dwarf, either from fear of being seen 
 talking with Aratus, or to make himself ap- 
 pear a mysterious character to that indi- 
 vidual, turned to his bellows and would not 
 say another word.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 PLOTTING 
 
 Ephesus presented at noon an animated 
 scene. By that hour the business of the city 
 was in full swing and the streets were 
 thronged with merchants and buyers as well 
 as pleasure seekers. The more leisurely 
 class going to or returning from their first 
 plunge in the public baths, by the brightness 
 and variety of color of their costumes lent a 
 pleasing cheerfulness to the picture. Artisans 
 tand laborers, from atelier and workshop, re- 
 leased from toil during the period of the mid- 
 day meal, poured out into the sunshine they 
 so much loved, and congregated in large 
 numbers around the marble basin of a foun- 
 tain in the agora venalis, which was fed by a 
 spring of deliciously cool water. The over- 
 flow was drained off into the city port by an 
 underground conduit. 
 
 Aratus sauntered near the fountain at the 
 time specified by the dwarf, who recognized 
 him long before he had finished his meal, but 
 did not deign to take notice of him until he 
 had washed down his figs and bread with 
 copious draughts of the almost ice-cold wa- 
 ter. 
 
 When the ill-favored hunchback looked 
 
 163
 
 164 PLOTTING 
 
 around, as if expecting some one, Aratus 
 came forward from among the people 
 thronging the agora. He did not put much 
 confidence in the bellows-blower, yet he was 
 curious to learn what he had to say. 
 
 "Come a little apart," said the dwarf, who, 
 in the sunlight, looked grimier and dirtier 
 than he did in the shade of the workshop. "I 
 want not every one to hear what I shall say 
 to thee." 
 
 The ill-assorted pair left the busy agora 
 and went into a narrow street. They stood 
 in the shade, and the dwarf leaned his mis- 
 shapen back against the wall of a house. 
 
 "Thou wishest to be avenged on Andros, 
 the owner of the sailing vessels?" 
 
 "How knowest thou that that is my de- 
 sire?" asked Aratus, to whom it seemed at 
 the moment that everybody in Ephesus 
 knew his designs and projects. This was the 
 third time that morning he had been told 
 what he intended to do. 
 
 "How know I? Have I not ears? The 
 workmen of the shop regard me as a mere 
 animal, lacking all intelligence. They never 
 hesitate to speak their secrets plainly before 
 me. Because my body is ill-formed they think 
 I am without sense, but they shall find their 
 mistake ere long." 
 
 He was vindictive and there was a fero- 
 cious glare in his eyes. 
 
 "But what know they?" 
 
 "Callus knoweth all about thee. Didst
 
 PLOTTING 165 
 
 thou not have evidence of that this morning? 
 And Demetrius " 
 
 "Does Demetrius speak thus publicly 
 about my concerns?" 
 
 "Demetrius hath many customers who 
 come to his shop and to his garden, and these 
 know thee well." 
 
 "And so my love affairs and my domestic 
 concerns are public property," said Aratus, 
 with disgust in his tones. 
 
 "Among many, yes." 
 
 "Thou sayest thou canst be of assistance 
 to me. I will give thee gold if it is worth it." 
 
 "Keep thy money. I do not this for thy 
 sake, but to avenge myself on Andros. He 
 comes to the workshop and scatters his sil- 
 ver among the workmen, but never has he 
 regarded me at my furnace more than as a 
 curious animal to be gazed at, or as a wild 
 beast in a cage. Only yesterday he scoffed 
 at me and held me up to ridicule. I hate him 
 hate! hate!" and he trembled in his pas- 
 sionate anger. 
 
 Aratus was surprised at the vehemence 
 of the dwarfs passion. He saw that he would 
 be a willing aid in any scheme of revenge he 
 might set on foot to wreak harm on his rival. 
 
 "Callus .said this morning," continued the 
 dwarf, "that thou hast a deadly potion pre- 
 pared for Andros." 
 
 "What if I denied?" 
 
 "Thou wouldst be a fool. Thou hast such 
 a potion."
 
 166 PLOTTING 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Use it not. Thou wilt not need it." 
 
 "How sayest thou? If the truth were told 
 I would fain throw it away." 
 
 "Do not so. It cost thee gold. Give it 
 into my keeping. I will see that it is put to a 
 good use." 
 
 "Thou wilt administer it thyself to my ri- 
 val?" 
 
 "I promise not this. I said not so. I told 
 thee I would put it to good use, and so I 
 will." Aratus took the vial from the inner 
 fold of his tunic, and, after a period of hesita- 
 tion, handed it to the dwarf. 
 
 "See how I trust thee," he said. "Now, 
 how canst thou help me in this affair?" 
 
 "Know ye the habits of Andros?" 
 
 "Not those of recent days. He has resided 
 some days at the mansion of Mellanides of 
 late." 
 
 The dwarf pointed his long bony finger at 
 Aratus, saying impressively: 
 
 "He is forsaking the gods !" 
 
 "What meanest thou? Speak. Demetrius 
 told me this morning in thy hearing of his 
 refusal to cry aloud in honor of the statue 
 of Diana. But that has passed and is for- 
 gotten." 
 
 "Yet I tell thee, O Aratus, that Andros is 
 forsaking the worship of the goddess oi 
 Ephesus. Come with me this evening be- 
 yond the southern city wall, and I will prove
 
 PLOTTING 167 
 
 my statement. It is time for me to return 
 to my furnace." 
 
 When the dwarf had left him, the enemy 
 of Andros pondered over his statements for 
 a long time. He questioned himself whether 
 he had done wisely in giving up the poison, 
 to obtain which he had ventured so much. 
 Might not this evil-looking specimen of a 
 man be in the pay, and perhaps in the confi- 
 dence of his enemy? Perhaps he was but a 
 good actor after all. Might it not be a plot 
 to secure the vial and convey it to Andros? 
 Aratus could not decide whether he had been 
 duped by an agent of Andros and at the in- 
 stigation of Callus, the silver worker, or 
 whether the dwarf was in earnest in his de- 
 sire for revenge and would really, that even- 
 ing, give him more valuable information 
 which could be used against the lover of Lyd- 
 da. After much hesitation he finally decided 
 to keep his appointment at the city gate. 
 
 A few minutes after the sun had taken his 
 evening bath and w r hile the clouds were yet 
 stained with crimson and purple, Aratus ar- 
 rived at the appointed place of meeting. The 
 dwarf was already there. In the fast fading 
 light he looked less disreputable than at 
 noon. Some attempt had been made to re- 
 move from his hands and face the marks of 
 toil. He wore a dark cloak over his brown 
 tunic, and but for the chronic untidiness of 
 his hair and beard, and for a decided limp in
 
 168 PLOTTING 
 
 one leg, he would not have attracted atten- 
 tion. 
 
 "We will go a pace into these woods and 
 rest upon the grass," said the bellows-blower, 
 "although we go not far from the city gate 
 or from the call of the guard, for it is said 
 that robbers infest the place hereabout." 
 
 The two walked in silence for about a 
 stone's throw from the wall. When both 
 were seated on the roots of a gnarled oak, 
 the dwarf began to speak : 
 
 "Knowest thou, Aratus, that within a mile 
 to the west of thine own vineyard there are 
 people who have entirely forsaken our god- 
 dess? I have been to the house and they 
 have neither statue of Diana, nor Jupiter, nor 
 any of the gods, nor even the images of their 
 own ancestors." 
 
 "Hast thou brought me here to tell me 
 this! There are plenty of men in Ephesus 
 who w r orship neither god nor goddess!" 
 
 "But these people of whom I speak declare 
 the immortal gods are evil spirits and lying 
 spirits, and that all their worshippers are des- 
 tined for the infernal regions!" 
 
 "This is a serious charge! Art thou sure? 
 It would be sedition against the emperor. 
 Art sure?" 
 
 "Yes, I know of what I speak. I have kept 
 mine eyes open. There are many little com- 
 panies of these blasphemers in and around 
 Ephesus. Hadst thou known them thou 
 wouldst have observed that none of them
 
 PLOTTING 169 
 
 participated in this year's Artemision. They 
 go not to the temple of Diana, nor to the 
 temple of any other god. 'Tis said they have 
 their own rules and orgies which profane 
 eyes, such as yours and mine, are never al- 
 lowed to see. A fellow workman of mine as- 
 sures me they devour children in the dark of 
 the moon, worship the head of an ass as a 
 god, and do many other monstrous things. 
 'Tis quite certain they have many strange 
 mysteries." 
 
 ''The last monstrosity, as thou callest it, 
 is not so strange, or so very new, if thou will 
 but think of it. Is not one of Hecate's sym- 
 bols a horse's head? Do not many worship 
 the symbol rather than the goddess? I ask 
 thee again, hast thou brought me here to 
 tell me only this?" 
 
 "Have patience, Aratus. I have a spicy 
 morsel for thy tongue. Wouldst thou credit 
 me were I to tell thee that one of thy friends 
 hast joined these strange people?" 
 
 "One of my friends ! I have innumerable 
 friends. It is not surprising that even a friend 
 of Aratus should make a fool of himself." 
 
 "One of thine enemies, then." 
 
 "I have but one Andros. Dost thou mean 
 him?" 
 
 "Aye." 
 
 "Ha! This is pleasant news! Mine enemy 
 a blasphemer and a forsaker of the gods. Oh ! 
 I have him now! He shall not escape my 
 clutches. This is better and surer than the
 
 170 PLOTTING 
 
 vial of Arachne ! I will set the whole of the 
 machinery of the temple to work. I thank 
 thee, good man, but but art thou certain of 
 what thou sayest?" 
 
 "Most certain. I have followed him to the 
 old house of Pelopidas several times but 
 think not I tell thee this for thine own sake 
 alone. When thou dost set his enemies in 
 motion against him thou art serving my pur- 
 poses, too. I have sworn by the dogs of Pros- 
 erpine that I will be avenged, and thy de- 
 termination to do him harm by reason of thy 
 rivalry becomes the instrument of my own 
 desires. He shall find that this misshaped 
 body hath a mind within it. Curse him ! He 
 hath treated me as a dog as one beneath re- 
 gard. He shall learn that I have a will that 
 can work to his undoing. Thou art the means 
 I choose to wreak my own vengeance." 
 
 Aratus did not feel at all complimented 
 at the role he was forced into playing by the 
 cleverness of the dwarf. That this ill-shapen 
 bellows-blower should want to use him for 
 his own purposes, and to make use of his 
 spleen against Andros to bring about his 
 own ends, was not at all complimentary to 
 such a one as Aratus, who possessed an over- 
 abundance of self-esteem and a large fund of 
 self-complacency. He was inclined to reject 
 the information as of no concern of his, but 
 he looked at the arms and fingers of the 
 dwarf, and realized their wonderful muscu- 
 lar strength. He saw with what compara-
 
 PLOTTING 171 
 
 tively little effort those long and strong 
 fingers could clutch his throat until the life 
 was out of his body. Then, too, he admitted 
 that the dwarf's calculations were correct. 
 He certainly would do what he could to in- 
 jure Andros, and here was too good an op- 
 portunity to be thrown away. He had but to 
 put the megabyses of the temple on the track 
 of his enemy and he could confidently await 
 the results he desired. 
 
 The dwarf had thought all this out care- 
 fully. He had, in fact, chosen Aratus to ac- 
 complish his plans for him. Like most of 
 the workmen in the shop of Demetrius, he 
 had come to believe that the man now sitting 
 beside him in the dark, was little removed 
 from one who is considered to be under the 
 special protection of the gods. He believed 
 Aratus to be half insane more than half in- 
 sane when there was question of Andros. 
 He had long known of the hatred arising 
 from the rivalry, and he determined to use 
 it for his own purposes. 
 
 He did not speak again for some time, in 
 order to let the information he had given 
 sink deeply into the mind of Aratus. It was 
 with an assumed nonchalance that he pres- 
 ently asked: 
 
 "Art thou not rejoiced now that thou gav- 
 est into my care the deadly potion? Thou 
 wilt not have murder to answer for to the 
 pro-consul." 
 
 "I am in doubt whether I acted wisely in
 
 172 PLOTTING 
 
 letting thee have it," replied Aratus. "Per- 
 haps after all its use will be a surer and a 
 quicker way to rid ourselves of him. What 
 thinkestthou?" 
 
 "If thou stir up the priests, and point out 
 to them that their reward will be the fisheries 
 in the northern lakes, and all his sailing ves- 
 sels, and perhaps some well-filled coffers in 
 his house, thou wilt have little else to do. 
 But in case they do not move fast enough to 
 suit my hate well I will carefully keep the 
 witch's vial. It may be useful yet."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 
 
 Andros, happily unconscious of the plot- 
 tings of his enemies, thought frequently of 
 the conversations he had enjoyed with Ely- 
 mas. He pondered deeply and long over 
 them, argued with himself, sifted and probed. 
 He was not one of those light characters 
 caught by a passing fancy. He desired to 
 know the reason of all things, and told him- 
 self that if the tenets proposed by Elymas 
 were found to be contrary to reason he would 
 reject them and cease his visits, which would 
 be something that he would regret, for he 
 had grown very fond of the family. 
 
 He did not find this opposition to reason, 
 but instead there arose in his soul a great de- 
 sire to learn more of the deity whom Elymas 
 so frequently mentioned and whom he felt 
 sure was neither the national goddess of the 
 Ephesians, nor Zeus of the Greeks, nor Jupi- 
 ter of the Romans. The attributing of hu- 
 man qualities, and often of human vices, to 
 these deities was something which was alto- 
 gether repulsive to him. He longed and 
 looked for a higher and purer and more ideal 
 worship. The falsehoods attributed to Mer- 
 cury, the inebriety of Bacchus, the libidi- 
 
 173
 
 174 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 
 
 nousness practiced in the cultus of his Asiatic 
 deity, in his calmer and higher moods, when 
 his mind was unruffled, disgusted him, and 
 although at one time or another he had given 
 way to one or other of these universal cus- 
 toms, yet the better and nobler part of him 
 had always rebelled against the excesses as 
 soon as his more rational judgment asserted 
 itself. 
 
 Andros had grown very fond of Elymas 
 and his wife Joanna. In his frequent visits 
 he had become well acquainted with David 
 and Gedeliah, and these two boys and their 
 sisters, Esther and Hannah, had come to 
 look upon him almost as a brother. Joanna 
 treated him in a specially motherly fashion 
 which he keenly appreciated. He gave her 
 much of his confidence. Long before the 
 summer had waned he had poured into her 
 sympathetic ear the story of his love for 
 Lydda. After some judicious questions by 
 which she satisfied herself as to the character 
 and disposition of Lydda, which a lover's 
 ardor had unconsciously yet absurdly col- 
 ored, and for which she, in her motherly 
 wisdom, had made due allowance, she 
 encouraged him to press his suit. 
 
 "If she is worthy of thee, Andros, she must 
 in time acknowledge the ardor of thy love," 
 she said. 
 
 "Worthy! She is a divinity! Worthy! 
 Oh ! Joanna, I shall never be worthy of her." 
 
 "Nevertheless, do thou try to win her."
 
 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 175 
 
 "Thou art truly kind. I would that she 
 knew thee. Thou hast been almost a mother 
 to me since thou didst shelter me when my 
 life was in danger." 
 
 Joanna had certainly grown very fond of 
 him. -She was tempted to tell him some very 
 interesting things, but she refrained, realiz- 
 ing the time was not yet ripe for any dis- 
 closures. 
 
 The evening meal was served and partaken 
 of with that usual joyous yet gentle hilarity 
 which so frequently charmed Andros and 
 brought him again and again to the house 
 for the pleasure of witnessing and participat- 
 ing in it. 
 
 When the repast was finished Elymas and 
 Andros repaired to the western veranda of 
 the house to watch the glories of the setting 
 sun. From their elevated position on the 
 southwestern slope of Mount Coressus they 
 looked over a beautiful country toward the 
 sea. Vineyards and meadows, fields of wav- 
 ing corn and here and there a cluster of forest 
 trees, checkered and diversified the land- 
 scape, beautified by the golden haze of the 
 setting sun. Long the two friends sat in the 
 splendor of the evening light, fairly intoxi- 
 cated with its delights. 
 
 The short Asiatic twilight came at length 
 and was quickly followed by a star-lit ni^ht 
 even more beautiful than the dying day. The 
 two sat in quiet contemplation. The thoughts 
 of both were, at that hour, too solemnly
 
 176 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 
 
 beautiful to be marred by the inconsequent 
 chatter of friendship. 
 
 Elymas grew more solemn and thoughtful 
 as the minutes passed. He was revolving 
 some great project in his mind. He had long 
 learned to love this bright young Ephesian 
 and sincerely wished him well. He was de- 
 bating within himself whether this was a pro- 
 pitious occasion to unfold to his young friend 
 at least a part of his own belief. Several 
 times he was on the point of speaking, and 
 then thought better of it and remained si- 
 lent. At last he decided he would speak. 
 
 "Thou hast known me for some months," 
 he began, "and thou must have perceived 
 that we are not of thy race." 
 
 "That I know full well," answered Andros, 
 "but thou hast been a good friend to me. Tell 
 me, I pray, the secret of thy kindness." 
 
 "Of that anon. Thou hast observed that 
 we worship not Diana, nor any of the gods." 
 
 "That I have perceived long since. At first 
 I wondered at this. Thou hast neither shrine 
 nor waxen image of an ancestor." 
 
 "I will unfold to thee the reason. My 
 friendship for thee and the desire I have to 
 do thee good make me take this risk. We 
 have a higher, purer, and a holier religion 
 than thou hast ever known. If thou wilt but 
 accept it, it will satisfy all the nobler crav- 
 ings of thine unsatisfied soul. Thou knowest, 
 from thine own experience, that thou art not 
 happy in thy present unsettled state of mind.
 
 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 177 
 
 An intellect such as thou possessest can 
 never be satisfied with less than the worship 
 of the true God. Tell me plainly one who 
 wishes thee nought but good speak from 
 thine inmost heart and say that thou dost 
 not in reality accept thine Asian Diana as a 
 real divinity." 
 
 The request was startling to Andros, the 
 more so as his doubts and difficulties on the 
 subject had recently grown stronger in pro- 
 portion as he had allowed his thought to 
 dwell thereon. His recent cogitations, his 
 bitter disappointment at the raising of the 
 parapetasma in the temple, his and Lydda's 
 disappointment in their hope of a return to 
 saner and more ideal conditions in the wor- 
 ship of the goddess, and, above all, the in- 
 ward consciousness that the orgies which 
 accompanied the worship were far beneath 
 the dignity of a human intelligence, which 
 he realized had something godlike in it, all 
 conspired to make the statement of Elymas 
 bear the impress of truth. 
 
 He realized the disinterestedness of the 
 speaker at his side. He remembered how he 
 had saved his life and put his pursuers off 
 the scent, and how he had refused all com- 
 pensation. The kindly welcome he received 
 on his now frequent visits many times con- 
 vinced him of the true nature of Elymas' 
 tried friendship. He felt at this moment, out 
 under the solemn stars, that his friend was 
 about to offer him some substantial benefit.
 
 178 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 
 
 He knew not what it was to be, but never 
 did he doubt the ingenuousness of his friend's 
 intentions. 
 
 And yet, to make the admission was, in a 
 sense, to denationalize himself, to declare 
 himself a renegade from the faith of his an- 
 cestors. Should he admit the statement pro- 
 posed to him he believed that it meant social 
 ostracism, for he was too earnest a character 
 to do anything by halves. His heart prompt- 
 ed him to admit the supposition, his inclina- 
 tions and his life's habits were equally ur- 
 gent in demanding a repulse. 
 
 "Were I to admit that," he replied, at 
 length, "all the beauty and all the joy would 
 vanish from my life. Degraded as is the 
 worship of Diana at present, those who can 
 look beyond the sensuous veil can see the 
 aesthetic and the beautiful in it." 
 
 "But, dear friend, granting this to be true 
 for the chosen few, can the mere love of the 
 beautiful satisfy the human soul? Use your 
 reason. Can a worship which fosters licen- 
 tiousness, deifies the vices, and laughs at 
 crime, be of divine origin? You know that 
 it cannot. Then, if that be so, the deity which 
 you have worshipped ignorantly in your 
 youth must be false." 
 
 "But where shall I go?" said Andros, with 
 a certain amount of agony in his voice which 
 the new thoughts had engendered. "I must 
 acknowledge a supreme being of some kind. 
 My very nature all human nature calls
 
 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 179 
 
 aloud for it. If Diana be false if " He 
 stopped suddenly. The influx of many new 
 thoughts rendered him speechless. 
 
 After what he considered a sufficient 
 pause, Elymas said solemnly: 
 
 "Andros, didst thou ever, on some such 
 beautiful night as this, watch the stars in 
 their courses? Hast thou ever considered 
 their orderly and varied movements? Canst 
 thou explain the never-failing order of the 
 succession of night and day? Is it not a 
 mystery to thee that, year after year, with 
 never failing regularity, the trees bud forth 
 and leaf and blossom and bear fruit, and 
 then, when summer is gone, lose their foli- 
 age; and all this with a regularity and order 
 that never varies with the succeeding years? 
 Hath it never impressed thee that one kind 
 of tree always bears the same kind of fruit, 
 and another a different kind, with unceasing 
 fidelity? Thou wouldst laugh at me as one 
 demented were I to attempt to gather grapes 
 from the elms that support the vines." 
 
 "I certainly should, good Elymas." 
 
 "But dost thou not see there is order and 
 design in all this? Where there are these 
 two qualities, which thou must admit belong 
 only to intelligent beings, there must be a 
 personal power directing nature. Thou wilt 
 admit that none but a God could create this 
 universe. Thou, or any other human being, 
 as thou knowest, couldst not create a blade 
 of grass. If, then, as shown by order and
 
 180 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 
 
 design, there is a personality in the creator, 
 this creator must be a personal God." 
 
 "That I see," admitted Andros thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "That personal God, whom thou grantest 
 hath created all things, must then be infi- 
 nite." 
 
 "Yes, the creator of all things must be 
 infinite." 
 
 "Then, to be logical, thou must admit that 
 as he is infinite, there can be but one God, for 
 dost thou not perceive that it would be a con- 
 tradiction, by the very meaning of the word, 
 to admit two infinite beings? Is it not clear 
 to thee that Zeus, or Diana, or any other god 
 or goddess cannot have real existence? Ad- 
 mit now, my friend, that thou canst no 
 longer say that Diana is a real divinity." 
 
 "But to whom, then, shall I go?" asked 
 Andros, as he stretched out his arms in an 
 imploring and somewhat pathetic manner. 
 
 "To that personal infinite God who rules 
 the universe," answered Elymas. 
 
 "Will he satisfy me? W T ill he, can he, rise 
 to my ideal of the beautiful? I confess to 
 thee that Diana has fallen far short of this." 
 
 "The God whom I worship, Andros, is all 
 beautiful. Thou hast seen and canst appre- 
 ciate the beauties of this wonderful earth of 
 ours. Could mortal finger paint those clouds 
 we have just seen aglow with living colors? 
 Can the artist paint the rainbow, or blend its 
 tints in such perfection as we see in nature?
 
 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 181 
 
 Who can create the liquid notes of the night- 
 ingale? Can mortal man fashion the petals 
 of the rose or produce the beauty of the deli- 
 cate lily? Spreadest thou the purple haze on 
 the evening hills? What more brilliantly 
 beautiful than the sun at noon save, perhaps, 
 the silver sheen of the skies at night in their 
 softened beauty? Who giveth lustre to the 
 silver shining moon? Why do we admire 
 bravery and courage and honor? Are they 
 not reflections of that divine beauty residing 
 in God? Yes, Andros, thou shalt find in the 
 only true God all the beauty thy soul craves. 
 Thou wilt grant that the world with all its 
 beauty could not have created itself, for thou 
 seest that then it would be acting before ex- 
 isting. Some power must have made it. No 
 one can give that which he does not possess. 
 Therefore, is it not clear that the giver of all 
 this beauty to the earth must himself be 
 beautiful, and even surpass thy ideals of 
 beauty?" 
 
 "Say no more, good Elymas; thou per- 
 suadest me to accept thy God." 
 
 "May the God thou acceptest bless thee. 
 He shall fill thy heart with love. Ah! why 
 that impatient shrug of the shoulders ? Thou 
 art thinking of thy Lydda. His love in thee 
 shall exist side by side with that human love 
 he hath given thee. There is room in thy 
 heart for both." 
 
 "I feared I should have to relinquish my 
 love for her for whom I would die."
 
 182 "TO WHOM SHALL I GO?" 
 
 "Not so. That human love in thy heart is 
 given thee by God. Cultivate it to thy 
 heart's desire, and may the God who im- 
 planted it in thy breast bless thee in it." 
 
 "I would hear more about this great God 
 of thine," said Andros. 
 
 Elymas judged that he had told the young 
 man sufficient for one time. He would let 
 him ponder well over what he had already 
 learned before going further. 
 
 "Seest thou how low the evening star has 
 declined? Come again as soon as thou find- 
 est it convenient, for I have many things to 
 tell thee."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 The exquisite odor of numberless roses 
 perfumed the still, summer atmosphere of 
 the peristyle of the house of Mellanides. 
 They were everywhere in the open court. 
 Between the marble columns blossom-bear- 
 ing bushes in boxes had been arranged. On 
 the pavement slaves had scattered many 
 armfuls in lavish profusion. In every avail- 
 able corner tall vases held rarest specimens. 
 Large branches of the climbing varieties, in 
 the glory of full bloom, were twined around 
 the marble columns. The peristyle, with its 
 Ionic columns of severe architecture, was a 
 riot of color. 
 
 Mellanides was especially fond of this par- 
 ticular flower and of its distinctive odor. As 
 Lydda had expressed the delight that roses 
 afforded her, the old warrior had given 
 orders to the slaves that she was to be abun- 
 dantly supplied from the rose gardens when- 
 ever she desired. 
 
 A few days after the meeting of Andros 
 and Elymas, Lydda occupied her favorite 
 marble bench at the head of the short flight 
 of steps that led down to the waters of the 
 impluvium. She was fairly embowered in 
 
 183
 
 184 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 blossoms. More beautiful than even the 
 roses, she presented an entrancing picture 
 of feminine grace and loveliness as she half 
 reclined on the marble bench, her feet on a 
 footstool, and her long, tapering ringers 
 clasped around her knees. She appeared, 
 however, preoccupied and rather ill at ease 
 and restless. Occasionally she would take 
 up the chelys, or tortoise-shell lyre, and pick 
 a soft, sweet air on the instrument, or strike 
 a bolder chord. She soon tired of this, and 
 sent an attendant for the phorminx and 
 plectrum, on which she was no mean per- 
 former. But on this afternoon she did not 
 seem able to concentrate her attention on 
 the larger lyre, or upon any particular occu- 
 pation or amusement. 
 
 That day she had suffered more annoy- 
 ance than usual from the attentions of Ara- 
 tus, who, as his financial condition reached 
 the lowest ebb, became more importunate 
 in urging his suit. Before this time, and 
 again to-day, Lydda had told him that she 
 could never give him her hand, and for the 
 most elementary of all reasons she did not 
 love him. This reiterated declaration ap- 
 peared to have the effect of causing him to 
 become more importunate. This afternoon 
 his manner of urging his suit had approached 
 to a species of ferocity. 
 
 To add to her vexation, Andros, on whom 
 she much relied, had not visited her villa for 
 several days. She knew not the reason of
 
 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 185 
 
 his absence, and he, at present, had no inten- 
 tion of telling her of his preoccupation of 
 mind on account of the new thoughts Ely- 
 mas had given him, and which were in real- 
 ity epochal for him. Her father was old. 
 Every day he was becoming more feeble 
 and less able to protect her against the 
 unwelcome attentions of Aratus. 
 
 At times, when she allowed herself the 
 luxury of day-dreaming, she would come 
 out of one with a frightened expression on 
 her face. What if Aratus, in the ardor of 
 his wooing, should attempt to carry her off 
 by force or strategy, and compel her to be- 
 come his wife! That very day he had sworn 
 by all the gods that he would, in the end, 
 make her his wife, and compel her love. 
 That should never be, she told herself. She 
 would love him alone whom she freely chose 
 to love. Violence might be used to carry her 
 away, but she would never bestow her hand 
 except by her own free choice. 
 
 It was not very surprising that Lydda 
 should be somewhat afraid for her safety. 
 The peristyle around the impluvium was 
 open at one end, and she lived here out-of- 
 doors the greater part of each day. The steps 
 at the farthest end of the court led down to 
 the lawn, and the river Caystrus was not far 
 away. The wall that enclosed the house 
 and garden could be easily scaled, or one of 
 the scores of slaves be bribed to leave one 
 of the gates unlocked. Access was, there-
 
 186 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 fore, easy to the peristyle and to the rooms 
 of the mansion. Her father could be si- 
 lenced without difficulty. Two men, or 
 three, would find it no great labor to abduct 
 her, if they were determined of purpose. 
 Her slaves? She could not be sure that they 
 were or would remain faithful where, of a 
 surety, plenty of gold would reward their 
 complicity. 
 
 She thought so long on such a possibility 
 as this that she worked herself into a nerv- 
 ous condition bordering on tears and hys- 
 teria, realizing, or at least imagining, that 
 amid all her luxury and unlimited wealth, 
 she was much alone and without a real 
 protector. 
 
 It was a relief to her at this juncture when 
 the steward announced the arrival of Andros. 
 She ran impulsively to the door leading from 
 the atrium to greet him. 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad so glad that thou hast 
 come at last ! Truant ! where wert thou these 
 many days? Doth the house of Mellanides 
 no longer offer attractions for thee?" 
 
 Andros' heart-beats quickened at this salu- 
 tation. Not being aware of the highly 
 wrought state of her feelings, he not un- 
 naturally thought the wish being father to 
 the thought that the warmth of greeting 
 was on his account. 
 
 "The house of Mellanides oflereth the on!;, 
 attraction in all Asia."
 
 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 187 
 
 " 'Twas not a very strong lode-stone which 
 could not draw thee here these many days." 
 
 "Had I but known that thou desiredst me 
 to come, I would have flown hither on the 
 wings of the wind." 
 
 "Oh, I have felt so lonesome lonesome 
 without thee! I have all kinds of fears when 
 thou art away. I am very fearful." 
 
 "Would that I could always stay with thee 
 to drive such thoughts away! What hast 
 thou, daughter of the warrior Mellanides, to 
 fear?" 
 
 "Oh, fearful thoughts ! There! I will not 
 tell thee now, but rather rejoice in thy com- 
 ing. Why hast thou been so long away? 
 W^here hast thou been and what hast thou 
 done? Come, sit here amid the roses. Are 
 they not beautiful earth's gifts to the sun? 
 The slaves bring me large armfuls every day. 
 Which wilt thou have, my Andros? Red 
 red for love! Yellow for the gold of good- 
 ness. W T hite what does white represent? 
 White for death! Eugh! I want not white. 
 Which wilt thou choose?" 
 
 Andros selected from the profusion of 
 blooms a deep red blossom and gave the girl 
 at his side a similar one, in which she nerv- 
 ously buried her face, as if to calm her ex- 
 citement by its delicious perfume. He saw 
 that the mistress of the villa, who was noted 
 among her acquaintances for her Juno-like 
 calmness, was now laboring under the effect 
 of some stress of excitement. Her speech at
 
 188 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 times seemed scarcely under her control. 
 She talked rapidly, and occasionally almost 
 incoherently, as if making an effort to hide 
 some secret. 
 
 "Lydda, thou art not thyself to-day," be- 
 gan Andros. 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes, I am! I am myself. There 
 is nothing the matter with me. Art thou 
 free from danger? Listen! Hearest thou 
 that peacock's screech? 'Tis a portent of 
 evil for some one. Does it not sound omi- 
 nous? Eugh! I will have them all killed. 
 Ho, steward ," and she shivered nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 "Wait, dear lady," persuaded Andros, "act 
 not rashly. 'Tis said their screech betoken- 
 eth nothing worse than rain. Do not do 
 away with the beautiful creatures. There! 
 See that one on the low parapet yonder. 
 How gorgeously he spreadeth his many-hued 
 feathers! Is he not clothed in magnificent 
 attire?" 
 
 "Juno's birds! No, I will not kill them. 
 They are too beautiful. Nothing beautiful 
 ought to die. Nothing should die!" 
 
 "Then thou wert immortal, fair one ! Art 
 thou ill, Lydda?" 
 
 "No, no. I am well. Why dost thou 
 ask?" 
 
 "Is thy father well?" 
 
 "He groweth very old. Oh, death, cold, 
 dark death, will come to him ere long."
 
 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 189 
 
 She shuddered. Turning suddenly to 
 Andros, she asked: 
 
 "Andros, promise me that thou wilt inurn 
 his ashes in the costliest urn thou canst pro- 
 cure. Promise! Promise!" 
 
 "Let us not talk on this. May he live long 
 years yet." 
 
 "Yes, yes. He shall. He must. He is 
 beautiful to me. Beautiful things must not 
 die." 
 
 "Then, I repeat, thou oughtest to be im- 
 mortal, for no one living is more beautiful 
 than thou." 
 
 "A pretty compliment! Where hast thou 
 learned such courteous phrases ? Not among 
 the men who man thy ships or catch thy fish 
 for thee." 
 
 "I caught them most from thee, my pre- 
 ceptress, or at least thou art their inspira- 
 tion." 
 
 "Am I an inspiration to thee, Andros?" 
 
 "Indeed thou art. Thou art ever in my 
 thoughts. Thou art a guide for all my ac- 
 tions. What wouldst thou say, fair lady, if 
 a new god were to tell thee that human love 
 was one of his best gifts to mortals?" 
 
 "This new god would tell us nothing new," 
 she replied. 
 
 "Yet some people seriously doubt it. 
 There are so many uncertainties and pangs 
 in love." 
 
 "They are wrong wrong, Andros. Love 
 is true. Love is noble. Love is real. 'Tis
 
 190 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 woman's glory the real nobility of man. 
 How can there be doubt concerning mortal 
 love? If love be true, thy god, whether he 
 be new or old, must be more of a god in giv- 
 ing than in withholding it. No religion 
 which is true would in any way antagonize 
 it, but would rather develop and elevate it." 
 
 The lover was surprised to hear such sen- 
 timents pass the lips of Lydda. For the 
 pleasure of hearing her talk he said: 
 
 "What if thou findest me a skeptic?" 
 
 "Then, dear friend, I would be thy teacher. 
 I would show thy skepticism to be impos- 
 sible while men and women have hearts that 
 beat and minds that know and souls that can 
 appreciate goodness. This is what it is to a 
 woman who loves. This is what thou shalt 
 find when thou discoverest the woman that 
 loves thee. He is the life of her life, her 
 joy, her recompense. For him she thinks, 
 speaks, moves, breathes! He is to her her 
 all, her very life. She is the clinging vine, 
 he the sturdy oak to which she looks for 
 support and strength. All her thoughts are 
 of him; her affections, even to pain, she sur- 
 renders to him. Let her love be trifled with, 
 and woman becomes a very human tigress. 
 Such is love in woman, O Andros. How 
 canst thou doubt of its truth, its reality?" 
 
 Her enthusiasm had flushed her face, 
 which was more lovely than ever under the 
 stimulus of her own speech. She was pant- 
 ing a little from excitement, and as she
 
 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 191 
 
 leaned back on the bench, Andros thought 
 that she never had looked more beautiful. 
 Through very delight he maintained the 
 attitude of the skeptic. 
 
 "Thy disciple is still unconvinced. Such 
 qualities as thou portrayest belong to the 
 gods rather than to mortals." 
 
 "I tell thee," replied Lydda, very earnestly, 
 "thou dost not know a woman's heart. 
 When she loves, all the energies and powers 
 of her soul go with it. He whom she loves 
 is her sun, her light, the guide of her life! 
 To him she is devoted in a way that even the 
 object of her love is incapable of realizing. 
 Every pulse of her heart, every thought of 
 her mind is for him. He possesses, controls, 
 dominates her. Such is true love of a 
 woman for a man. If there be a true god, 
 or one of whom I have never heard, whose 
 priests teach this doctrine of human love 
 as well as divine love, I am ready to accept 
 that divinity, for this is truth." 
 
 "I have heard it said that love is one of 
 the most benign of gifts," said Andros, as 
 Lydda paused. He was thinking of that 
 sentence of Elymas which gave him so much 
 consolation and which he repeated to him- 
 self many times a day. With the frequent 
 repetition had come the consoling conclusion 
 that in some way or another, at present ob- 
 scure to him, his own love affair would end 
 happily. He could not explain why this 
 feeling came to him, yet the conviction had
 
 192 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 grown stronger day by day ever since he had 
 declared himself willing to accept the one 
 true God. A change was manifest in him. 
 He had grown more gentle, more kindly to 
 all. There was a softer word on his lips 
 now. The glance of his eye was more sym- 
 pathetic toward suffering and want. 
 
 "Benign!" said Lydda. "Of course it is 
 benign. It is godlike. No greater blessing 
 comes from the gods to mortals." 
 
 "What dost thou imagine should be the 
 qualities of the man who loves?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, Andros, how can I answer? I know 
 not a man's heart. I can only describe a 
 woman's, and what I know she is capable of 
 when she truly loves." 
 
 "Come, pretty one, tell me what qualities 
 thou thinkest should be in him who would 
 call himself a lover. I would like to know a 
 woman's view, and in that mirror examine 
 mine own shortcomings." 
 
 "I cannot catalogue a man's virtues," said 
 Lydda, slowly, with a sudden and unaccount- 
 able shyness. She began pulling to pieces 
 the petals of a crimson rose and scattering 
 them. Her former maidenly reserve ap- 
 peared again suddenly to enwrap her. In a 
 few minutes she was the Lydda of an hour 
 before, poised and exteriorly unemotional. 
 
 Andros sat near her in silence for some 
 time, amusedly watching her pluck to pieces 
 one rose after another. He used all his per- 
 suasiveness to induce Lydda to picture the
 
 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 193 
 
 qualities of an ideal lover. His efforts were 
 of no avail, for she seemed no longer to care 
 to discuss the subject. After repeated un- 
 successful attempts, he attributed his failure 
 to the emotional fickleness of woman's na- 
 ture, a quality which, he mentally remarked, 
 she had not enumerated. 
 
 When Andros had departed, after the eve- 
 ning meal, Lydda regretted that she had not 
 made known to him her fears with regard to 
 the possible violence from Aratus, and his 
 increasing assertiveness. That which now 
 caused her blushes of mortification was the 
 remembrance of the freedom with which she 
 had spoken of love. Had he read in her 
 impassioned sentences the secret of her 
 heart? She had confided this secret to no 
 one but the matronly woman of the large 
 house on the other side of the Caystrus. 
 From the time of her first visit a friendship 
 had sprung up, and she had often gone across 
 the river since the accident. She had learned 
 to love and confide in her who presided over 
 the household. 
 
 As children, she and Andros had been 
 playmates together. Now, in her full bloom 
 and beauty of womanhood, there was no 
 other person who so filled her mind as he did. 
 She admired his manly character and sturdy, 
 developing manhood as the years slipped by 
 in rapid succession. In reality, for a long 
 time she had been deeply in love with the 
 
 friend of her childhood. He was her stand- 
 is
 
 194 SHORT OF HIS DESIRE 
 
 ard of manly excellence, but his reticence had 
 forced upon her a reserve of manner which 
 she longed to have opportunity to let drop 
 away. 
 
 In this conversation she suddenly realized 
 that she was probably showing her own 
 heart too openly. When Andros had asked 
 her to describe a male lover she was aware, 
 had she attempted the task, he would have 
 recognized himself in the picture. Hence, 
 in order not to betray herself, her sudden 
 change of manner to shyness and an appear- 
 ance of indifference and even coldness. 
 
 Andros was puzzled but not discouraged. 
 He regarded this shyness as a distinctly fa- 
 vorable omen. He resolved that on the occa- 
 sion of his next visit to the villa he would 
 venture all and ask her hand in marriage, 
 but many strange happenings were to come 
 to pass before they met again.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 Although Andros had not mentioned his 
 new belief in the one God to Lydda, owing 
 to the excited state in which he had found 
 her, yet he had gone to the mansion for that 
 express purpose. He saw that it would be 
 impossible and worse than useless to intro- 
 duce so grave a subject when her mind was 
 so evidently perturbed over something the 
 nature of which he had not the remotest 
 idea. He resolved to see her again at the 
 first opportunity and propound to her the 
 great thoughts and ideas he had learned from 
 Elymas. His new faith was daily growing 
 and taking a stronger vitalizing hold upon 
 him. 
 
 With the knowledge already acquired, he 
 saw plainly that of necessity his old habits 
 and ways of thinking would in time drop 
 away from him. He found no difficulty in 
 renouncing the public worship of Diana. 
 This had long disgusted him by its attendant 
 licentiousness, although the pageantry of 
 the ritual processions had pleased his love of 
 color and display. With the domestic habits 
 of his dailyjife he was to find more difficulty. 
 The habits of a lifetime are not overcome in 
 
 195
 
 196 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 an hour, nor are lifelong customs dropped 
 without a struggle. 
 
 To the amazement of the slaves of his 
 household, he relegated a beautiful shrine, 
 the chief ornament of his own living-room, 
 to an unused room at the top of his house. 
 One by one the various symbols of the wor- 
 ship of the goddess as Diana, or Hecate, or 
 Luna or Magos, which, as works of art, 
 were adornments of his walls, were quietly 
 removed, and, if not unostentatiously de- 
 stroyed, were sold. 
 
 His acceptance of the belief in the One 
 God had been complete and entire. He had 
 seen the force and had accepted the teach- 
 ings of Elymas. For years he had culti- 
 vated the society of those philosophers who 
 frequently wandered from Athens to Ephe- 
 sus. His choice of reading had been of the 
 more solid kind in preference to the light, 
 frivolous romances for which Ephesus was 
 so famous in his day. He was, consequently, 
 in a better mental condition to be able to 
 grasp readily a teaching founded more on 
 abstract reasoning than on imagination, or 
 that which appealed merely to the senses. 
 
 The satisfaction he experienced in know- 
 ing that if he accepted the new God proposed 
 to him by Elymas he would not be required 
 to relinquish his love for Lydda was intense. 
 He repeated to himself over and over again 
 the words of Elymas, "Human love is a be- 
 nign gift of God to man. Cultivate it to thy
 
 WINNING A FRIEND 197 
 
 heart's desire, and may the God who gave it 
 to thee, bless thee in it." 
 
 This advice, probably more than any other 
 cause, disposed him to listen with docility, 
 and to accept other and higher doctrines 
 when he again visited Elymas. 
 
 In the meantime he passed through a 
 phase of mental perturbation which caused 
 him no little trouble. He remembered that 
 in the workshop of Demetrius there was 
 awaiting him a silver shrine of the goddess 
 Diana, intended by him as a present to 
 Lydda on her next birthday. He saw clearly 
 that if he accepted the worship of the one 
 true God he could no longer buy, have, or 
 give to another an image of a false god. This 
 was evident and clear to his upright mind. 
 What should he do? A thought came to him 
 to present it to her as a work of art merely, 
 abstracting from its religious signification; 
 but he was of too thorough and manly a 
 character to adopt such a subterfuge. The 
 work on the shrine was already completed. 
 In a few days Demetrius and his workmen 
 expected to carry it, as was customary, in 
 < procession through the streets to the villa 
 of Mellanides, and with due ceremonies place 
 it in position. 
 
 He wended his way, puzzled and thought- 
 ful, to the silversmith's, undecided what to 
 do until he had reached Demetrius' garden. 
 
 "May Diana prosper thee, noble Andros," 
 said Demetrius, who was standing at the
 
 198 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 door of his workshop. He was now as ob- 
 sequious as once he had been aggressive. 
 
 "And mayest thou enjoy length of days," 
 said Andros in answer to the salutation. 
 
 "Come inside, generous patron of the arts, 
 and view the artistic triumph of thy shrine. 
 It is now all but completed. On the third 
 day from now I intend to give my artists a 
 holiday, when the shrine shall be conveyed 
 in solemn procession to the house of Lydda. 
 Knoweth she yet the great joy of possession 
 of so beautiful a piece of workmanship is to 
 be hers?" 
 
 "Nay, good silversmith, I have not yet 
 informed her. I had intended it as a sur- 
 prise." 
 
 "Had intended! Had intended! What 
 meanest thou? Doth not the workmanship 
 please thee? Come, look at the statue! All 
 Greece cannot show a fairer specimen of the 
 silversmith's handicraft! Seest thou that 
 crenallated towered crown that poise of 
 head? It is perfection. Seest thou the 
 gracefulness of that antlered hind which the 
 goddess holds? You almost expect to see 
 it move and try to escape ! Look, friend, at* 
 the arrows. How delicate the carving of 
 each feather, and see the quiver at her back! 
 The statues in the temple are vulgar com- 
 pared to this one, O Andros! Look at those 
 miniature Ionic pillars of the temple, which 
 style of architecture, as thou knowest, was
 
 WINNING A FRIEND 199 
 
 especially invented for our temple. Surely 
 thou art satisfied with the workmanship?" 
 
 "More than satisfied," answered Andros, 
 "the artistic excellence could not be sur- 
 passed by Scopas or Praxiteles." 
 
 "Good! It is a pleasure to work for one 
 who can appreciate true excellence in art. 
 Now I know why thou refusedst, during the 
 Artemision, to shout in honor of the great 
 statue in the temple. The ancient statue was 
 not artistic enough for thee. When wilt 
 thou have the shrine removed? I will have 
 it weighed before thee now, although I know 
 that one so wealthy as thou art will not be 
 particular as to a few ounces. Thou knowest 
 thou wert to pay me one-third of the weight 
 in silver for the cost of workmanship. For 
 such excellence that is cheap, indeed." 
 
 "I will give thee twenty ounces of silver 
 above our bargain for the excellence of thy 
 labor, but I want it not taken to the house 
 of Mellanides," said Andros. 
 
 "Not taken there ! Am I to have no glory? 
 Art thou dissatisfied with it? 'Twas but a 
 moment ago thou didst praise it. Is there 
 aught about it that displeaseth thee? No 
 rules of mine art have I violated." 
 
 "No, no. It is beautiful beautiful, 
 indeed." 
 
 "And thou wantest it not for thy lady? 
 Ah, Aratus hath succeeded and thou hast 
 failed?" 
 
 Andros' face flushed angrily at the men-
 
 200 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 tion, in such a connection, of his rival's name. 
 
 "No. If thou wishest to retain my friend- 
 ship, mention not that name again." 
 
 "But the reason, then, that thou " 
 
 "I have changed my mind. That is all. 
 I am willing and able to pay thee well for 
 thy labor. From this silver I desire some- 
 thing of thee that will please the daughter 
 of Mellanides better." 
 
 "Better than a shrine of our goddess! 
 Nothing can suit a woman better than that, 
 provided the metal be precious enough." 
 
 "Hath she not a number of shrines in her 
 house?" 
 
 "But nothing approaching the beauty of 
 this one, of a surety." 
 
 "Get thyself invited, and visit her rooms 
 sometime, Demetrius, and see for thyself." 
 
 "What wilt thou then?" asked the silver- 
 smith, in no good humor. 
 
 "That thou meltest this silver once again 
 and from it make two tall vases of thy 
 choicest skill. I will pay thee one-third of 
 the weight of the shrine in silver for the work 
 thou hast already done, and am willing to 
 pay thee even more, if thou demandest it, if 
 thou wilt but make the vases according to 
 my wish." 
 
 "Do as he desireth, master, but do it 
 quickly, or thou wilt not have opportunity to 
 recompense thyself." 
 
 This advice came unexpectedly, in a hoarse 
 whisper,, from the deformed dwarf of the
 
 WINNING A FRIEND 201 
 
 furnace, who had pulled Demetrius' tunic 
 from behind. He spoke in so low a tone that 
 Andros did not hear. Demetrius was 
 slightly in awe of this man at the forge, be- 
 lieving in some way that he possessed some 
 occult powers over nature and men. His 
 uncanny appearance helped to foster this 
 belief. The whispered warning had its ef- 
 fect. The silversmith, without turning 
 around towards the dwarf, nodded affirma- 
 tively that he understood. 
 
 "I cannot make thee out, O Andros," said 
 Demetrius. "This shrine which thou hast 
 ordered hath taken months of labor. Thou 
 sayest that it is a thing of beauty, and now 
 thou desirest that it be sent to the melting 
 pot again. One would think thou hadst for- 
 saken thy goddess. Dost thou remember I 
 thought so once before?" 
 
 "Take it as an unexplained whim of one 
 who is able to pay for his vagaries. If thou 
 wilt make what I desire of thee, I will even 
 pay thee half the weight of them in silver." 
 
 The offer was a good one. Demetrius, 
 ever with an eye to a bargain, let his renown 
 as an artist stand in abeyance, and lost no 
 time in closing it. Curses from the furnace 
 corner followed Andros as he, with Deme- 
 trius, walked to the far end of the workshop, 
 where a little weazened old man sat behind 
 a table and received minute instructions as 
 to the shape and ornaments of the vases. 
 
 When the detailed instructions had all
 
 202 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 been carefully written down, Andros strolled 
 among the artists, here and there leaving his 
 customary dole for wine. 
 
 Arriving at the door by which he had en- 
 tered the workshop from the garden, Andros 
 for the first time realized that he had habit- 
 ually neglected and apparently ignored the 
 bellows-blower. 
 
 Conscious that he had not done this de- 
 liberately, and regretting that hitherto he 
 had overlooked the man, he was curious to 
 learn how his oversight had affected him. 
 Andros did not blame himself, for the man 
 at the furnace while at work was generally 
 hidden behind a door, the furnace being 
 placed in a corner of the shop. One leaf of 
 the door generally hid him from the view of 
 those passing in and out. 
 
 "Health to thee, Nitros. Wilt thou par- 
 don me that I have never asked thee to drink 
 my health in wine?" 
 
 A savage growl, scarcely human, came 
 from the deep chest of the dwarf. Had 
 looks the power to kill, Andros would have 
 dropped dead, so intense was the malice that 
 shone from his sunken eyes beneath the 
 beetling brows. 
 
 "Thou art partly to blame," continued 
 Andros, good-naturedly, "because thou so 
 persistently hidest thyself behind the great 
 door." 
 
 "Small care or concern hath such as thou, 
 with health, wealth and friends, for a mis-
 
 WINNING A FRIEND 203 
 
 shapen thing such as I. Is not the sight of 
 me a shadow on thy path of joy? or do not 
 my squalor and deformity add brightness to 
 thy life by the very contrasts of our con- 
 ditions?" said the dwarf, with savage bit- 
 terness. 
 
 "Indeed, not so," said Andros earnestly. 
 "I pity thee thy sad deformity! May the 
 gods hm! May not the Roman physician 
 of the pro-consul help to cure thee of thy 
 ills? 'Tis said that he hath performed 
 wonders." 
 
 "That is right! Mock! mock! I am help- 
 less, as thou knowest, to avenge myself! Do 
 thou wait! Thy tauntings shall not go un- 
 avenged ! Beware for thyself." 
 
 "Be not so angry," said the shipowner, 
 quite at a loss to imagine why the man was 
 so vindictive. "I will do thee good, if thou 
 wilt permit it. I know not why thou art so 
 angry with me, except that I have neglected 
 thee on my visits here. This, as I have ex- 
 plained, was inadvertence. Now listen to 
 me, friend Nitros." 
 
 "I am listening. What hast thou to say? 
 Like the rest of men, I suppose, scoffings at 
 my deformed figure. If the immortal gods 
 made me thus, is it just that mortals always 
 thrust the third finger out at me, and make 
 my life a torture? Do men think that I have 
 no human feelings left?" 
 
 Andros gazed at the misshapen man, and 
 felt in some way that he was rightly re-
 
 204 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 proved. With an impulse of regret for his 
 former neglect, he said: 
 
 "I know thou hast. I pity thee thy mis- 
 fortune. Bare pity is a slow solace. This is 
 what I propose. Thou art above the mere 
 labor of bellows-blowing. Thou knowest 
 that I employ many men. Wilt thou not 
 come to me? I want a strong, faithful man 
 in my house to guard my treasure-chest, 
 which is none too safe from some of my 
 slaves when I am absent. Wilt thou come? 
 Thy labor shall be light and honorable, and 
 I trust thee." 
 
 Andros, as he spoke, watched the play of 
 emotions on the swarthy and begrimed face 
 of the dwarf. At first there appeared to be 
 no intelligent light in his eyes. Then came 
 a gleam as he realized the proposition, fol- 
 lowed by a look of distrustful doubt. Then 
 hesitancy, as if the offer were too good to be 
 true. This was followed by a burst of anger 
 which momentarily blazed out of those pierc- 
 ing eyes. It was calmed, evidently, by the 
 recollection of the last three words which 
 Andros had spoken. 
 
 "Thou trusteth me ! me ! It is impossible !" 
 he said as one bewildered. 
 
 "Why so, my friend? Have I not known 
 that thou hast been faithful to Demetrius, 
 thy master, these many years? If thou art 
 true to one master, wilt thou not be true to 
 another?"
 
 WINNING A FRIEND 205 
 
 "Oh, but I have wronged thee. I hated 
 thee. I sought to do thee harm !" 
 
 "I am sorry for that, because I never 
 harmed thee. Thou canst undo that by being 
 faithful to me in the new office I offer thee. 
 Wilt thou come?" 
 
 Nitros paused for some seconds, and then 
 answered : 
 
 "Yes, I will come with thee." 
 
 The young Ephesian felt for his purse 
 with the intention of giving him some coins, 
 but thought better of it. He was good 
 enough character reader to know that in the 
 circumstances it would be a more delicate 
 compliment not to offer money. 
 
 "I am glad that thou wilt come," he said 
 simply. "Thou knowest my house. I shall 
 expect thee to-morrow." 
 
 As the speaker walked away, the dwarf 
 followed him with his eyes. He was a com- 
 pletely changed man. Even Demetrius, who 
 treated his men with consideration, always 
 regarded Nitros as little more than a mere 
 machine. Those who were familiar with the 
 keeper of the forge would have been sur- 
 prised had they watched him at this mo- 
 ment. For the first time he had been re- 
 garded as a human being with a will and 
 powers of his own. For the first time in his 
 life was he spoken to by a man as to a man. 
 And, then, the joy at the thought of freedom 
 fron drudgery and hard and repulsive physi- 
 cal labor! To be a trusted agent with re-
 
 206 WINNING A FRIEND 
 
 sponsibility! The transformation in him 
 was wonderful. Already he appeared taller 
 and less deformed. He was now a man, 
 trusted, honored ! He watched Andros until 
 he was out of sight. He turned to his idle 
 bellows and began blowing the fire vigor- 
 ously. The creakings of the leather folds 
 of the great bellows drowned out his words. 
 
 "Oh, if Aratus has not begun his work of 
 vengeance against this man! I must stop 
 him at all costs, even if " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but threw 
 on his brown cloak and hastened to the wine- 
 shop where he believed Aratus could be 
 found at that hour. f
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 The next time that Andros went out to 
 the family of Elymas he was greatly sur- 
 prised at what he saw. In all his previous 
 visits he had experienced the delights of 
 rural calm. The attractive charm to An- 
 dros had always been the peace that reigned 
 in the household and the surrounding quiet 
 of a rural home. On this occasion more 
 people were gathered here than he had 
 ever seen before. There was an unwonted 
 stir. 
 
 All appeared to be laboring under some 
 suppressed excitement, which was shown in 
 sparkling eyes and flushed faces. Men and 
 women passed hastily from room to room 
 and in and out of the house in a preoccupied 
 manner. Here and there in the garden were 
 little knots of men or women, or sometimes 
 of both, busily discussing something of im- 
 portance. Others came to the farmhouse, 
 stayed a few minutes and then hurried away. 
 
 Andros, being unknown to all save the 
 family of Elymas, considered himself on this 
 occasion to be in the way. He decided to 
 leave quietly and return some other day 
 when the excitement should have passed. 
 
 207
 
 208 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 He was about to depart, having gone down 
 the garden some paces, when Elymas hastily 
 approached him. 
 
 "Thou art not deserting us, Andros? We 
 will not let thee go. Thou dost not under- 
 stand why so many friends are gathered here 
 to-day. I will explain all to thee later. They 
 will not remain long. Many have already 
 gone. Thou art welcome as ever, but thou 
 seest I have the duties of hospitality to at- 
 tend to. I know thou wilt excuse me for a 
 short time. Abdiel hath returned, and 
 greatly desires to see thee. He is engaged 
 at present, but I will send my son David to 
 thee. Many of these people know who thou 
 art and feel kindly towards thee." 
 
 Andros could but accept the graceful ex- 
 planation. In a few minutes David came 
 to entertain him. The young man, believing 
 that Andros was a neophyte, or was about 
 to become one, and not knowing to what ex-, 
 tent he had as yet been instructed, refrained 
 as much as possible from discussing religious 
 topics, deeming it more prudent to leave 
 such important matters to those more 
 experienced. Previously kindly disposed 
 towards each other, the two soon became 
 fast and confidential friends. 
 
 Andros was quick to see that this young 
 man was reluctant to talk on religious sub- 
 jects, and he therefore refrained from intro- 
 ducing them, although he had many ques- 
 tions to be answered.
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 209 
 
 "It ill becomes a youth," said David, "to 
 discuss these high subjects when one's elders 
 men of experience are within call." 
 
 "Thy father is busy to-day with his 
 guests?" 
 
 "Abdiel will soon come to thee." 
 
 "Who is Abdiel? What is he?" asked 
 Andros, who for some time had been curious 
 to know why every one of the family spoke 
 of and treated him with the greatest respect 
 and reverence. 
 
 "Dost thou not know? He is the priest of 
 our religion." 
 
 "Is that the reason why all of you hold him 
 in so much veneration?" 
 
 "Most assuredly, for at present none but 
 he in all Ephesus can dispense to us our 
 mysteries." 
 
 "W 7 hat are thy mysteries?" 
 
 "Wait until he cometh to thee. He will 
 explain all to thee, if he find thee worthy." 
 
 The master-fisherman did not urge an ex- 
 planation. He rather respected the young 
 man's retiring disposition and modesty of 
 demeanor. They soon found common 
 ground upon which they could converse and 
 exchange confidences to their hearts' con- 
 tent. It was the universal subject. During 
 their talk Andros told his friend of his love 
 for Lydda and all his hopes. As confidence 
 begets confidence, he learned that David's 
 affections were centered upon a young 
 woman living in a little community in the
 
 210 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 woods on the north side of the river 
 Caystrus. 
 
 "I know of those people!" exclaimed An- 
 dros. "My Lydda told me that once she met 
 with an accident near their house. They 
 treated her as a sister. She often speaks of 
 them. They live not far from her father's 
 house." 
 
 "I almost envy thee," said David, laughing 
 in such a way as to show that that vice had 
 not any hold on him. 
 
 "Why? How so?" 
 
 "When thou shalt marry thy Lydda, thine 
 own and her wealth will make thee one of 
 the very richest men in Ephesus, while I, if 
 I am fortunate enough to secure the hand of 
 her whom I love, shall have to work hard all 
 the days of my life. I say I almost envy thee, 
 and probably should do so did not my reli- 
 gion forbid envy." 
 
 "Forbid envy ! Doth thy religion influence 
 thy private life? Thy very thoughts?" 
 
 "Unquestionably," replied David. "It en- 
 ters and influences our inmost being. It 
 dominates the whole man." 
 
 Andros remained silently thinking for 
 some time. This new idea engrossed him. 
 His mind, however, soon reverted to the 
 thought which was at present uppermost. 
 "If I marry Lydda! Ah, it is by no means 
 certain as yet that I shall secure that happi- 
 ness! David, I like thee much. I will look 
 after thy interests if thou wilt trust me.
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 211 
 
 Come what may, I am influential enough to 
 secure thee some lucrative position." 
 
 David thanked him and said he would re- 
 mind him of his promise some time in the 
 future. 
 
 By this time most of the gathering had 
 dispersed. Abdiel came in search of Andros 
 and David modestly withdrew. 
 
 "Elymas tells me that thou now believest 
 in the one true God?" said Abdiel interrog- 
 atively. 
 
 "This I believe most firmly," replied An- 
 dros; "tell me what more I must do." 
 
 Seating themselves in the shade of a grape 
 arbor, with the aroma of grape blossoms all 
 around them, Abdiel began to unfold to him 
 the sublime doctrines of the Holy Trinity 
 and the Incarnation of the Son of God. 
 
 Long Andros listened with absorbed at- 
 tention to the marvelous story of the funda- 
 mental truths of Christianity, fearing to in- 
 terrupt by questioning lest he might miss 
 any of the teachings of Abdiel. It was an 
 epoch-making period for Andros, for his 
 mental horizon was enlarged. He saw more 
 of the meaning of life. His ideas expanded, 
 and he was conscious that these doctrines 
 supplied a realization of his long-cherished 
 ideals, although the whole revelation was so 
 different to what he could possibly have 
 imagined. Henceforth he lived in a new 
 world of thought and motive. One effect
 
 212 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 was the birth of an incipient zeal. He 
 wanted all Ephesus to know the great truths. 
 
 Stars studded the sky before Abdiel ceased 
 speaking of the wonderful story of man's 
 fall and his divine redemption. 
 
 "Explain to me, good sir, one thing," said 
 Andros. "Why was it necessary that the 
 divine Logos, after he had taken up, as thou 
 sayest, our human nature into the divine, 
 should needs have suffered?" 
 
 "Have I riot already told thee, Andros, 
 that he assumed our human nature in order 
 that he might suffer for us? God, a pure 
 spirit, could not suffer, but the offense of sin 
 against God was infinite, and required a 
 reparation of infinite merit, such only as God 
 could offer. This reparation of the God- 
 man the only possible one that could prove 
 adequate was accepted by the Father, and 
 the whole human race was redeemed there- 
 by. Seest thou now the necessity of suffer- 
 ing on the part of the God-man the only 
 one capable of making reparation and of 
 accomplishing the redemption?" 
 
 Andros assented, but put another ques- 
 tion: 
 
 "Admitting the fact of an Incarnation, 
 how can it be shown that this Christ is the 
 divine one he claims to be?" 
 
 "This is shown by the prophecies concern- 
 ing the Christ all having their fulfilment in 
 him; by his own teaching and wonderfully 
 holy life, and by the miracles which he per-
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 213 
 
 formed in proof of the truth of his doctrines 
 and of his divinity." 
 
 "Thou sayest that this holy one hath come 
 on earth in these our times. Didst thou ever 
 see this divine one, Abdiel? Didst thou ever 
 witness a miracle?" 
 
 The priest remained a long time without 
 speaking. The question appeared to cause 
 him great emotion. His lips trembled and 
 his eyelids twitched as at some exciting re- 
 membrance. Andros was surprised, for their 
 conversation had been quiet and grave and 
 even-toned. He was at a loss to understand 
 why so apparently simple a question should 
 so affect his companion. It was some time 
 before Abdiel regained his composure. 
 
 "Thou must pardon me my emotion, An- 
 dros. The mention and the remembrance 
 of this great event of my life, when I first 
 saw the Master, always affect me deeply. 
 Wouldst thou hear the story?" 
 
 Andros signified his eagerness to hear. 
 
 "The dew begins to fall heavily. We will 
 go into the house, and there I will tell thee." 
 
 When they were seated in the large living 
 room, in the midst of the family of Elymas, 
 Abdiel began his story: 
 
 "Thou must know that I am a native of 
 Galilee, in the province of Syria. My father 
 was a tiller of the soil. He brought up his 
 family on a farm on the fruitful southern 
 slope of Mount Carmel. I and my two 
 brothers remained at home long after th?
 
 214 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 period which the rabbis declare that Jewish 
 youths should marry. So long did I wait 
 that I determined to stay with my parents as 
 long as they lived, to look after them in their 
 old age. In this providence disposed other- 
 wise, and I am here. My two brothers are 
 taking care of our parents. 
 
 "On one occasion several of my father's 
 horses broke loose from their pasture 
 grounds, and I was sent in search of them. 
 I traveled south and east for two days. 
 When the sun was within an hour of setting 
 on the second day, I came to a small town 
 not far from the southern confines of Galilee. 
 
 "There was much commotion in the one 
 main street. I could hear the ululation and 
 the shrill wailing of women. This told me 
 that some one was recently dead, or that the 
 body was being conveyed to the burial place. 
 As I came nearer, I dismounted and tied my 
 horse to a tree on the outskirts of the town 
 and proceeded in the direction whence came 
 the sounds of mourning. 
 
 "Soon I met the funeral procession. Never 
 shall I forget the look of ineffable sorrow 
 stamped upon the face of the woman. She 
 was advanced in years. When her affliction 
 came to her she was probably fifty years old. 
 She did not appear to be well endowed with 
 the riches of this world, for her garments 
 were old and coarse, and she wore the long 
 cloth over her head which is indicative of 
 widowhood in our country. I enquired of
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 215 
 
 some sympathetic bystander whether she 
 was engaged in the mournful task of con- 
 signing her husband to the grave. 
 
 ' 'No/ he answered, 'she performed that 
 sad duty more than seven years ago. To-day 
 she buries her only son. He was a good 
 young man; now her only support is taken 
 from her/ 
 
 "I noticed as the procession advanced 
 nearly all the townspeople left their houses 
 and either joined it or said a few kindly 
 words of consolation to the weeping widow. 
 I have seen much grief and suffering in my 
 time, but never have I seen, O Andros, such 
 unutterable woe as was depicted on that 
 mother's face. Strong men wept at sight of 
 her grief, which, as the procession neared the 
 place of burial, appeared to grow more incon- 
 solable. Moved to deep sympathy for the 
 grief-stricken mother on account of the na- 
 ture of her irreparable loss, I joined the 
 cortege, determined, although I was a stran- 
 ger to the townspeople, by my presence to 
 show my sympathy for her in her bereave- 
 ment. 
 
 "While we were wending our way slowly 
 toward the place of sepulture the wailing of 
 the townspeople and the shrill shrieks of the 
 professional mourners grew louder. When 
 these were at their height, I saw in the dis- 
 tance a large gathering of men and women 
 approaching. They were accompanying 
 one of a most majestic appearance. Had it
 
 216 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 not been for his extreme dignity and noble 
 carriage I should have paid no more than 
 ordinary attention to him, regarding him as 
 one of those itinerant teachers who of late 
 years had been going up and down the coun- 
 try, especially in Galilee and Judea. Some 
 of these had been excommunicated by the 
 high priest and the Sanhedrim in Jerusalem. 
 Others were allowed to go about unmo- 
 lested, being considered harmless. 
 
 "This teacher possessed a dignity and a 
 kingly bearing such as I had never before 
 seen among men. When he spoke, all within 
 sound of his voice hung with rapt attention 
 on his words, compelled as it were by a force 
 divine to acknowledge the power and elo- 
 quence that accompanied them. There were 
 three of his companions to whom the crowd 
 that pressed around them gave signal defer- 
 ence. These three were his special familiars 
 and seemed to be possessed of some of his 
 own power to draw men around them. 
 
 " 'See, Master,' I heard one of them say, 
 'here cometh a funeral train. Shall we step 
 aside and let it pass? Shall I bid the throng 
 that is following in our wake make room for 
 the bier?' 
 
 "I heard not the reply from the Master, 
 but saw him raise his hand in a commanding 
 attitude. The musicians and those bearing 
 the bier stood in wonder. There were some 
 audible murmurs of disapproval among the 
 townsmen at the stopping of the funeral
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 217 
 
 cortege. I looked toward the widowed 
 mother, pitying her in her grief, and regret- 
 ting that this interruption had occurred. 
 Any untoward circumstance would be to her, 
 in the future, when her memory would lov- 
 ingly dwell on every detail of the burying of 
 her beloved one, a further source of exquisite 
 grief. She now seemed exhausted, as if her 
 sorrow had reduced her to a state of numb 
 despair. The kindly women who were with 
 her watched her closely, fearing that she 
 might faint from the excess of her anguish 
 before the time of the final ordeal of leaving 
 her only son a prey to the corruption of the 
 sepulchre. The fountain of her tears was 
 dried. She could weep no more. She ap- 
 peared oblivious of her surroundings, en- 
 shrouded only in her sorrow. 
 
 "When the two gatherings that of the 
 townsmen, and those following the Master 
 came face to face, she stood passively, her 
 hands clasped before her, her features par- 
 tially hidden by the mourning veil, gazing 
 at the form of her dead. The Master saw 
 her tear-stained cheeks. He saw her form 
 bent in anguish. He looked with pitying 
 eyes on the magnitude of her sorrow, as 
 boundless as the sea. 
 
 "When, without a word, by a single ges- 
 ture, he halted the bier, his figure was regal. 
 Never did a lordly general, leading his sol- 
 diers home from victory, look more com- 
 manding. A Csesar himself could not be
 
 218 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 more imperial than he was, standing before 
 the bier of the dead young man. His fame 
 as a great prophet and a doer of wonders 
 had gone before him and reached the little 
 town of Nairn, but few of the townspeople 
 had ever seen him, nor were they now pre- 
 pared to see one of such commanding dig- 
 nity combined " with the most unaffected 
 humility. 
 
 "He was a Nazarene. His hair fell in 
 golden-brown ripples to his shoulders. The 
 beard was full but rather short and of a shade 
 or two lighter than the hair. The mouth of 
 medium size, with lips thin and sensitive. 
 The nose was long and straight, with dis- 
 tended nostrils. The color of his face, and 
 especially of his brow, was the whiteness of 
 marble, enhanced in beauty by a faint touch 
 of color on the cheek-bones, and by the rich 
 redness of the lips. The eyes, which were 
 shaded by strong brown eyebrows, were the 
 most remarkable feature of his countenance. 
 They were large and beautiful, full and lus- 
 trous and of a dark blue. They seemed to 
 speak of love and meekness, of strength and 
 sympathy and kindness, and yet of domi- 
 nating power. One glance of those eyes cap- 
 tivated my soul and I felt as if it were flut- 
 tering at his feet like a wounded dove. 
 
 "The influence of this wonderful man was 
 felt by all present. The gathering waited 
 for something, it knew not what. While we 
 were gazing upon him, the Master began to
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 219 
 
 change in some intangible way. No one 
 seemed to know how the difference came 
 about, but all were conscious of it. He had 
 come among them as one of them, although 
 superior to them. Now, standing in front 
 of the bier, he did not appear to grow larger, 
 but there was manifested in him an attribute 
 which was awing and overmastering. The 
 everlasting holiness of Aaron, our great high 
 priest, shone in him. He seemed to exem- 
 plify the kingly dignity of David, and you 
 felt that he was wiser and greater than Solo- 
 mon. Above and beyond all this, the con- 
 sciousness was borne in on you that he was 
 master of heaven and earth, of life and death, 
 and of all the powers of the universe. 
 
 "Many of the awed assembly were already 
 kneeling, expecting something, they knew 
 not what, would take place. The widowed 
 mother looked longingly at him through a 
 mist of tears, for she had begun to weep 
 again. Was there a glimmering of hope 
 being lighted in her breast that the great 
 prophet would do something for her in her 
 inconsolable grief? Did her wildest flight 
 of delirium of sorrow for one instant imagine 
 no, it was impossible that she should have 
 thought of the wonder which was so soon to 
 follow. The Master said to her: 
 
 " 'Weep not/ 
 
 "Wondrously the fountain of her tears 
 was dried, and there stole over her heart a 
 feeling of resignation soft and sweet as the
 
 220 FAME OF THE MASTER 
 
 first breath of spring. The Master then 
 touched the bier, which had been lowered 
 and placed on two trestles by the bearers. 
 With an assumption of dignity and with a 
 power which the spirits of the other world 
 obey, he said, in a tone not loud but pene- 
 trating, which thrilled every hearer, and 
 made the bereaved mother clasp her hands 
 in an agony of suspense: 
 
 " 'Young man, I say to thee arise.' 
 
 "What if he should prove to be merely one 
 of those false teachers pretending to work 
 miracles! Oh, her despair would be the 
 blacker for the flickering of hope! 
 
 "But see! the cere-clothes and swathing 
 bands begin to give signs of life in the one 
 enshrouded in them. There is a change in 
 the corpse. That son, that precious lost one, 
 her only support, begins to show signs of 
 life! His eyelids twitch, his eyes open! He 
 is alive! With an effort the cere-clothes 
 hinder he takes a sitting posture. His 
 struggles for freedom of movement burst the 
 bands. He is free! 
 
 "The Master takes him by the hand and 
 leads him a few paces. And he gives him to 
 his mother. The woman, dazed as much by 
 the miracle as by her own grief, at first does 
 not comprehend, but with the warm clasp of 
 her own precious boy's hand, full conscious- 
 ness rushes back to the poor, tired, numbed 
 brain. With a wild cry she throws herself 
 into the arms of her son. They mingle their
 
 FAME OF THE MASTER 221 
 
 tears of joy. He is safely back from beyond 
 the grave. None but a mother can realize 
 her ecstatic happiness. Amid laughter and 
 tears of joy the two at length join in the 
 Hallel, or song of praise, which the whole 
 company is now singing; they turn to pour 
 out their gratitude to their benefactor. 
 
 "While this shouting was at its height, and 
 the excited people were praising the wonder- 
 worker and congratulating the son and the 
 mother, the Master and his company had 
 quietly withdrawn. They were seen in the 
 distance journeying towards the shore of the 
 Lake of Genesareth. Dost thou now doubt 
 of Christ's divinity, O Andros?" 
 
 "I doubt no more, if I ever doubted. None 
 but a God could raise the dead to life by his 
 own power." 
 
 Abdiel was well pleased. 
 
 "Thou art on the way to salvation," he 
 said. 
 
 "Tell me, I beseech thee," said Andros, as 
 he arose to depart, "the meaning of so large 
 a gathering here to-day, and why they were 
 so excited." 
 
 "A great event will soon take place in 
 Ephesus. Before this happens, I hope thou 
 wilt have the waters of baptism poured upon 
 thy head. Then thou wilt know and fully 
 realize all."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 NEMESIS 
 
 Nitros, the dwarf, proved of invaluable 
 service to Andros, who daily congratulated 
 himself on the acquisition of so faithful a 
 servitor. Notwithstanding his unshapely 
 form, and the fact that he was unaccustomed 
 to the luxurious and refined ways of the 
 household of one of the better class of Ephe- 
 sians, he soon accommodated himself to his 
 new conditions. 
 
 The master of the house permitted him to 
 choose his own costume, and was surprised 
 at the cleverness with which he selected 
 those clothes which indicated his position in 
 the house. Nitros chose a light crimson, or 
 geranium-colored tunic of soft wool, over 
 which he wore a purple cloak which helped 
 to conceal the deformity between his shoul- 
 ders. He wore the tight-fitting Ephesian 
 trousers, which were of dark material and 
 without the usual zigzag pattern. A bright 
 yellow Phrygian cap above his raven hair, 
 and a yellow belt, from which depended a 
 short dagger and a jingling bunch of keys, 
 gave him a rather picturesque appearance. 
 Visitors regarded him as a unique kind of 
 
 222
 
 NEMESIS 223 
 
 major-domo in the house of their wealthy 
 friend. 
 
 Soon after he had taken him into his 
 household Andros tested him in several 
 ways. He found that he was utterly honest. 
 He paid him well, but to his surprise he dis- 
 covered that the dwarf did not seem to care 
 in the least for money, often refusing to take 
 his wages altogether, or telling his master to 
 take care of them for him. 
 
 His chief characteristic, as Andros soon 
 discovered, was a dog-like attachment to 
 himself. Before coming to Ephesus he had 
 lived near the soil in his native forests where 
 life was not complicated. He never seemed 
 so pleased as when in the company of his 
 master. His great pride was that he had been 
 entrusted to watch the coffers of Andros 
 when the latter was absent. The freedmen 
 of the household, as well as the slaves, were 
 at first inclined to imagine that he had been 
 brought to them for their special amusement. 
 It was not long before they discovered their 
 mistake. Two scullions full grown men, 
 too received their lesson. After some at- 
 tempted practical joke on him, Nitros threw 
 off his purple cloak and displayed his knot- 
 ted, muscular arms. He took hold of the 
 two men, and by sheer muscular force 
 knocked their heads together several times 
 and sent them spinning, one in one direction 
 and the other in another. After that there 
 was no more molestation, but rather a pro-
 
 224 NEMESIS 
 
 found, although somewhat servile, respect 
 for his physical prowess. 
 
 There was one peculiarity in Nitros which 
 puzzled Andros. Many times he enquired 
 of his master whether he had ever suffered 
 annoyance, or had been molested in any way 
 by the priests of the Temple of Diana. 
 "Hath -aught been said or done to annoy 
 thee, master?" was his frequent interroga- 
 tion. Upon the answer in the negative being 
 invariably given, Nitros would look relieved 
 and then mutter something which sounded 
 like a threat or a curse on some one. 
 
 "It will come, some day, and then thou 
 must let me know of it, master. Promise me 
 this." 
 
 Andros promised in an off-hand, amused 
 way several times, until the enquiry and the 
 request being repeated so often, at last made 
 an impression on him. It was now in the 
 beginning of the month of July. The Arte- 
 mision festival for the year was long a thing 
 of the past. The religious frenzy so com- 
 mon among some of the people during the 
 festival had died down. The new thoughts 
 concerning the Christ which he had learned 
 from Abdiel filled the mind of Andros. He 
 had never been farther away from the in- 
 fluence of Diana's priests than now. Why 
 should Nitros ask the same question again 
 and again? He determined to question him. 
 
 "Why dost thou imagine, Nitros, that I 
 shall suffer molestation from the priests?"
 
 NEMESIS 225 
 
 The ex-furnace-tender's blushes could be 
 seen through the swarthiness of his skin. He 
 mumbled something not quite intelligible to 
 Andros. 
 
 "Dost thou anticipate that an attack of 
 some sort will be made upon me?" 
 
 "It shall not if I can prevent it, master. 
 It might come. I know not. I am anxious 
 for thy safety." 
 
 "Who would instigate them? I know of 
 no one who is mine enemy." 
 
 "Every man, if he be a man, hath his ene- 
 mies," said the dwarf sententiously. 
 
 "Whom dost thou think is mine?" 
 
 "I cannot tell. I cannot tell thee," was 
 the somewhat enigmatic reply the first sen- 
 tence seeming to indicate that he was ig- 
 norant, and the second, that he was not at 
 liberty to give the information. 
 
 "Doth this mean that thou dost not know, 
 or that thou wilt not tell me?" 
 
 "O master, ask me no more. I will pro- 
 tect thee. What I desire to do, thou mayest 
 forbid if thou knowest. Ask me no more." 
 
 Andros did not attach much importance to 
 the words. He imagined that it was all a 
 piece of overwrought gratitude on the part 
 of the hunchback, who, perhaps, was seeing 
 dangers where none existed. 
 
 Nitros would never consent to leave the 
 house when he knew that his master was 
 absent. In the evening, when Andros re- 
 turned from looking after his various in- 
 
 16
 
 226 NEMESIS 
 
 terests, or from a visit to Elymas and Abdiel, 
 Nitros would absent himself far into the 
 night. His master had investigated and 
 learned that he never entered the wine-shops, 
 and that he did not seem to care for the best 
 Ephesian pramnium wine. He therefore 
 gave him a key to the outer door of his house. 
 As a slave always slept in the atrium, the 
 dwarf found no difficulty in reaching his own 
 apartment, no matter at what hour of the 
 night he returned. Nor did his master en- 
 quire of him the nature of his business in 
 these night journeys. The man rose betimes 
 in the morning, and was at his duty, and 
 thus, as Andros had proven his honesty, he 
 let him have his freedom. 
 
 The house of Andros was within a stone's 
 throw of the southeast corner of the city 
 port, a large body of artificial water in the 
 heart of the city. This was fed by the river 
 Silenus, or lower river, which was a branch 
 of the Caystrus. The port was about one- 
 half mile in length and one-third of a mile 
 in width, the greater distance running east 
 and west. It was surrounded by warehouses 
 and had numberless wharves or piers. In 
 front of the warehouses on all four sides of 
 the port, and not far from the water's edge, 
 was built a colonnade of arches which pro- 
 tected the merchants and traders from sun 
 and rain. At all times of the day, and often 
 far into the night, these colonnades and the 
 wharves where the smaller sailing vessels
 
 NEMESIS 227 
 
 were moored were thronged with people. It 
 was to the southern colonnade Nitros most 
 frequently repaired on his night excursions. 
 Here he met Scythians from his native coun- 
 try. 
 
 On the night of the interrogations by his 
 master he selected one of these whom he 
 could trust and sent him to bring Aratus to 
 the water's edge. The dwarf had given his 
 countryman a message which he knew would 
 arouse the curiosity of Aratus. 
 
 "A new god hath arisen. Thy life is 
 threatened. Come." 
 
 The message was somewhat Pythonic, as 
 he intended it to appear. Nitros founded 
 the first part on some vague information 
 gathered concerning his master's opinions of 
 the gods. He did not care one iota about 
 the fact, for he lived apparently in total neg- 
 lect of all the gods. His religion, since his 
 change of circumstances, consisted in un- 
 bounded gratitude toward his benefactor. 
 
 The moon, three days past the full, shone 
 brilliantly over the city and dusted the sur- 
 face of the waters of the port with diamonds. 
 Here and there, darted little pleasure craft, 
 whose sails now appeared as dark as night, 
 and again, as they caught the moon's rays, 
 resembled the white wings of some large 
 bird. Large barges, propelled more slowly, 
 were filled with singing and drinking men 
 and women, whose voices, softened by the 
 distance, echoed and re-echoed along the
 
 228 NEMESIS 
 
 arches of the colonnade. The port was a 
 favorite resort of Ephesians on summer 
 nights. Laughter and song and music floated 
 across the water. 
 
 The custodian of Andros' riches took little 
 heed of the softened beauty of the scene. His 
 mind was intent on one project. As the 
 minutes flew by he noted with satisfaction 
 the thinning of the number of pleasure boats 
 on the water and of those people who paced 
 up and down beneath arches in search of 
 coolness. By an hour after midnight the 
 port was deserted, with the exception of a 
 few city guards who watched the immense 
 warehouses during the night against fire or 
 thieves. 
 
 He did not grow impatient at the delayed 
 return of the messenger, yet he felt the wait- 
 ing tedious. To carry out a previously settled 
 plan he would disregard time and by sheer 
 will-force dominate all opposing elements. 
 Sitting motionless in the dark shadow of 
 one of the arches he was not observed by the 
 passing guard, or if he was seen was thought 
 to be some tired traveler and allowed to sleep 
 on unmolested. Nitros was not sleeping. 
 Every sense was alert, every nerve tense, 
 watching and waiting with a cat-like per- 
 sistency which was at length rewarded. 
 
 "Nitros," whispered a voice from the deep 
 shade behind him. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Thy countryman."
 
 NEMESIS 229 
 
 "Hast thou brought him for whom I sent 
 thee?" 
 
 "He is here." 
 
 The dwarf arose and went back into the 
 deeper shade of the arches. 
 
 "Thou hast done well. Go now, and come 
 here to-morrow night for thy reward." 
 
 "Is it thou, my my fine bellows-blower? 
 What what meanest thou by thy strange 
 message?" 
 
 It was Aratus who spoke. His voice was 
 unsteady and husky, for he had partaken 
 freely of pramnium that evening. He was fn 
 the good humor of a successful dice-thrower. 
 
 "Sit down here, thou money-borrower, 
 thou man of three letters." 
 
 "How now! Dost thou dare to order me. 
 Me I mean I. Thou black Adonis! Thou 
 hand handsome Pluto !" 
 
 The dwarf saw that Aratus was so nearly 
 incapable that it would be necessary, if his 
 plan was to be successful, to act quickly 
 before the fumes of the wine would render 
 him insensible, or at least too sleepy to talk. 
 
 "Come, Aratus, come with me. It is hot 
 and close in the arcade. Come down the port 
 steps and we will sit near the water. It will 
 be cooler there." 
 
 "Ver-very well. I will go. The city is 
 not fit fit for a a patrician, in this hot 
 weather. I must spend a month on the 
 shore of the Icarian Sea. Didst ever hear 
 the story of Icarus, dwarf? It's funny, very
 
 230 NEMESIS 
 
 funny. Never mind. Don't remember it 
 myself just now. I will tell it to thee some 
 other time. Lend me thine arm, good black- 
 smith. The falernian is going to my legs! 
 Help me down these steps. Eh! Steady 
 steady now there! that will do. This is 
 much cooler cooler than the esplanade. 
 Thanks, slave. I see thou knowest how to 
 treat one of a higher station in life than 
 thine own. Didst bring a flask of wine? 
 No! Then thou art thou art a a fool." 
 
 "Aratus," said the dwarf sharply, in order 
 to arrest the attention of a mind dulled by 
 excess, "listen to me. Didst thou go to the 
 priests concerning Andros?" 
 
 His dislike for his rival sobered him mo- 
 mentarily on hearing his name. 
 
 "No," he answered distinctly. "No, I re- 
 gret I have delayed so far. To-morrow I 
 will give the priests a banquet I have some 
 gold left yet and then I'll fill their ears with 
 my story. Let me see; what is it I am to 
 say?" 
 
 "Never mind that now. Thou hast done 
 nothing yet against him? Art thou sure?" 
 
 "Be not vexed, thou thou furnace-ten- 
 der. Time enough. I work for thee as well 
 as myself. I begin to-morrow to make an 
 end of him may my curses go with him!" 
 
 Nitros was satisfied with what he had 
 learned. 
 
 "Aratus! listen to me. Art thou listen- 
 ing?"
 
 "No one saw Nitros, in the dark hole of the water- 
 stairs, fumble in his tunic for a small vial." Page 231.
 
 NEMESIS 231 
 
 "Yes, yes, I hear thee, but I would thou 
 hadst some wine." 
 
 "Give up thy plan. Thou shalt not harm 
 him. If thou dost but touch him, or harm 
 come to him through thee, thy life shall pay 
 the forfeit." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Aratus, drunk- 
 enly. "Thou misshapen dog of Cerberus! 
 Dost thou dare to command me! Ha! ha! 
 ha!" 
 
 The fumes of the wine were again assert- 
 ing the mastery. Nitros saw that he would 
 soon be asleep. A sudden thought came to 
 the brain of the Scythian. What if he let 
 him sleep here on the water-stairs, within a 
 few inches of the water! At this landing- 
 place he knew the water was at least ten 
 feet deep. The cavern-like stairs in the em- 
 bankment were in the densest shade. No 
 one would discover the drunken sleeper, 
 and well, his new occupation had some- 
 what relaxed the strength of his fingers. 
 He was not so sure he could clutch a man's 
 throat so effectively as formerly. 
 
 He saw that drowsiness was fast stealing 
 over the sitting form. He remained silent. 
 It would be only a matter of a few minutes 
 before Aratus would be unconscious. No 
 one saw Nitros, in the dark hole of the 
 water-stairs, fumble in his tunic for a small 
 vial. Taking out the stopper, he held it near 
 the sleeper's face. He was conscious of its 
 pungent odor. Arachne had been sure in
 
 232 NEMESIS 
 
 the making. He placed his lips close to the 
 mouth of the small bottle and blew the fumes 
 of the poison again and again into the face 
 of Aratus. Pausing for a moment, he once 
 more blew the poison-laden vapor into the 
 nostrils of the sleeper. With a certain 
 amount of cunning he wound the drunken 
 man's purse two or three times around his 
 girdle. It would be evidence that the man 
 had not been robbed. 
 
 When Nitros saw that Aratus was in a 
 deep trance-like sleep, he arose and walked 
 up the water-stairs to the esplanade above. 
 He knew that a slight movement of the 
 sleeper on the step just above the water 
 would cause him to lose his balance. 
 
 The dwarf took up his position in the cor- 
 ner of the balustrade, overlooking the sleeper 
 below. Peering down into the black dark- 
 ness, he could discern nothing except the 
 faint glimmer of one white hand hanging 
 listlessly over the sleeper's knee. Without 
 excitement, patiently he waited, a type of 
 semi-barbaric persistence in gaining an end. 
 His pulse did not change their steady beat- 
 ing. Fate would accomplish for him that 
 which he desired. 
 
 The minutes glided on unobserved. The 
 moon, long past her zenith, illuminated the 
 waters with a weird yellowish light. He 
 knew her rays would not penetrate the cav- 
 ern of the water-stairs. He did not know 
 how long the drunken stupor would last.
 
 NEMESIS 233 
 
 Yet with an infinite patience he stood mo- 
 tionless in the corner of the balustrade, 
 peering down at the huddled figure on the 
 lowest step. 
 
 The back of Aratus was against the ma- 
 sonry. That might steady him to some ex- 
 tent. No matter. He would become rest- 
 less before long. Then he must lose his 
 balance. 
 
 Probably for an hour Nitros waited thus, 
 when his pulse quickened as he heard a 
 slight movement below, and the drunken 
 voice of Aratus mumbling some inarticulate 
 sounds. Then there was a movement and a 
 sudden splashing sound. A cry was choked 
 by the smothering water. The dwarf saw 
 two hands held up appealingly as the body 
 sank beneath the surface in the dim moon- 
 light. He watched with a species of fasci- 
 nation. The tragedy ended by the rising of 
 a number of bubbles to the surface. They 
 appeared for one moment like yellow dia- 
 monds on the water, and then vanished. 
 
 With a sound resembling the growl of an 
 animal, Nitros turned from the place and 
 wended his way homeward. He went into 
 a tavern, and for the first time in his life 
 swallowed a lar#e draught of strong wine.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 REPULSED 
 
 The custodian of the coffers of the ship- 
 owner and master fisherman was busy with 
 his ordinary occupations early the next 
 morning". Loss of sleep did not appear to 
 affect him. Although he could not have 
 slept more than two hours, he appeared to 
 be refreshed and cheerful. He had gone out 
 early to the market and purchased a supply 
 of fresh flowers for the day with a lavish 
 expenditure. Every vase and every vessel 
 suitable for holding sprays of imprisoned 
 perfume was filled. 
 
 When Andros emerged from his sleeping 
 room, the dwarf was ready at his door with 
 wine for his master's early morning refresh- 
 ment. He looked around the room which 
 Nitros had decorated so lavishly with pleased 
 surprise. His one extravagance, if Andros 
 could be said to have an extravagance, was 
 flowers. He would have spent large sums 
 in sending them to Lydda were it not that 
 Mellanides cultivated the best to be found 
 in Ephesus. 
 
 "Are we celebrating some great victory 
 to-day, Nitros, that thou hast decorated the 
 house so richly?" 
 
 234
 
 REPULSED 235 
 
 "Nay, master, no particular victory. Yet 
 the gods are good to thee." 
 
 "Dost think, then, that my money chest 
 doth too much overflow?" 
 
 "Not so. But nothing is too good for 
 thee, master. A house without flowers is 
 as a woman without a wedding ring, or as 
 a beautiful corpse without the light of life." 
 
 "Verily thou art a poet, Nitros. How for- 
 tunate was I to discover thee at the forge!" 
 
 "I thank the gods that thou didst so. 
 Henceforth my life is thine. It were will- 
 ingly lost in thy defence." 
 
 Nitros kept his secret concerning the fate 
 of his master's rival. He was aware that 
 x the death of Aratus would soon be made 
 public, at latest when the body floated. He 
 knew that it would be impossible in the much 
 traversed waters of one of the busiest ports 
 in the world that the body would remain 
 long undiscovered. His black beard and 
 swarthy skin helped him to hide or disguise 
 any passing. emotion that might betray him. 
 Although not uncouth, he possessed some 
 of the stolidity of a primitive race and was 
 in consequence troubled with fewer emo- 
 tions, and, it may be, twinges of conscience, 
 than his master would have suffered under 
 the same circumstances. 
 
 The discovery was made much sooner 
 than the hunchback expected. While An- 
 dros was at his morning meal, the slave who 
 slept in the atrium came to him saying that
 
 236 REPULSED 
 
 a messenger from his fish-steward of the 
 agora venalis wished to see him. The mes- 
 senger was told to enter. 
 
 "Good sir, thy steward hath sent me to 
 tell thee that some men, early this morning, 
 were standing at the corner of the esplanade 
 overlooking the southeastern water-stairs, 
 and that in looking down into the clear 
 water at the foot they saw the body of a 
 man who had been drowned during the 
 night." 
 
 "Well, my good man," said Andros, in 
 unconcern, "what interest have I in that? 
 Will he not make good food for lampreys? 
 The port waters have swallowed many a 
 bankrupt spendthrift before now. Dost thou 
 think there is anything startling in this?" 
 
 "But, sir, the city guard, with a long grap- 
 pling hook, raised the body to the surface 
 and pulled it to the lower step." 
 
 "Well?" said Andros, as he continued to 
 pick daintily at his breakfast. 
 
 "Thy steward sent me to tell thee who it 
 was that met his death last night." 
 
 "He is very considerate. Who may the 
 unfortunate fellow be?" 
 
 "It is the body of Aratus." 
 
 "Aratus! Aratus sayest thou?" Andros 
 jumped to his feet in the greatest excitement. 
 He paced the floor several times, oblivious 
 of the presence of the messenger. "You may 
 go. Stay. Here is money," and he gave him
 
 REPULSED - 237 
 
 a silver coin. "Tell my steward I send him 
 my thanks for his trouble." 
 
 The news affected Andros strongly. His 
 first thought was that of intense satisfaction 
 that his rival was out of his path. 
 
 "The gods be thanked," he said, but im- 
 mediately checked himself, saying, "God, I 
 thank thee." 
 
 In critical moments, or in moments of 
 great excitement, the habits of a lifetime as- 
 sert themselves. Do what he would, strive 
 as he might to overcome the feeling which 
 he instinctively felt to be unworthy of him, 
 he could not help feeling rejoiced that the 
 only one who was really a rival to him for 
 the hand of Lydda was out of the way. 
 
 As a rival, he naturally wished him out of 
 the field, but as a man he bore him no 
 ill will, and in other circumstances he could 
 have lived on friendly terms with Aratus, 
 although the latter was of a character and 
 disposition so diametrically opposite to his 
 own that he would never have been on terms 
 of familiarity. 
 
 "Nitros," he called, "Nitros, go to the 
 agora. Go to the city port; go everywhere. 
 Learn all thou canst of the death of Aratus. 
 Do not delay thy return longer than is 
 necessary." 
 
 A peculiar mission for the dwarf! His 
 care on returning must be not to know too 
 much, and thus divulge his own complicity. 
 Within an hour he returned.
 
 238 REPULSED 
 
 "Aratus was not robbed. His net purse 
 was wrapped around his cincture securely. 
 The city authorities think he was drunk and 
 rolled down the steps of the water-stairs, but 
 they find no bruises on his body. There were 
 twelve gold pieces in his purse, enough to 
 give him handsome cremation. The Jew 
 money-lenders are frantic for the loss of the 
 money they have advanced him on the pros- 
 pect of his marriage with the daughter of 
 Mellanides." 
 
 "Hath he done such a thing as that! Bor- 
 rowed of the Jews to advance his suit with 
 Lydda!" 
 
 " 'Tis well known in the city, master; 
 didst thou not know?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Notwithstanding the exciting, and to him 
 really regrettable, news, Andros could not 
 help allowing his mind to dwell on the in- 
 creased possibilities in favor of his suit. He 
 well knew that old Mellanides and Lydda 
 regarded Aratus as a lifelong acquaintance, 
 and gave him as free an entry to their house 
 as they accorded himself. He was aware, 
 also, that while he was often for days en- 
 gaged in his business of the fisheries, or 
 looking after important cargoes in his ship- 
 ping interests, Aratus, although he was 
 known to have but scant visible means of 
 support, seemed to have unlimited time at 
 his disposal. How often had he spent that
 
 REPULSED 239 
 
 time in the company of Lydda? What suc- 
 cess had he achieved? 
 
 Ah! perhaps that strange excitement of 
 Lydda, and its quickly followed coldness, 
 were caused by some overture on the part 
 of Aratus ! He would delay no longer. He 
 would this very day put the fate of his hap- 
 piness to the test. That afternoon he re- 
 paired to the mansion of the old warrior. 
 
 "Welcome, welcome, my boy. Saidst thou 
 that thou wert tired of coming to see me? 
 Thou mightest live in Athens, or Rome or 
 Alexandria, for the little we see of thee now. 
 I like to see stalwart young men about me. 
 Lydda will be glad to see thee, I am sure." 
 
 Thus chatted on the bluff old soldier whom 
 Andros met on the lawn in front of the 
 house. 
 
 "Ho! boys! slaves! run and get wine for 
 Andros. Have it ready in the peristyle. 
 Young men are always thirsty, eh, Andros ? 
 Well, old men old soldiers at all events 
 can take their share of falernian, too ! What 
 news from Rome, boy? Are the legions 
 starting out anywhere for fresh conquests? 
 I hear little of the news now. Would that 
 I were twenty years younger. I would fol- 
 low the latarum again. Well, well, it is no 
 use grumbling at fate. I hear there is likely 
 to be trouble in Syria. Hast heard aught of 
 it, Andros?" 
 
 In this way, with the garrulity of old age, 
 he chatted on until they reached the house.
 
 240 REPULSED 
 
 As soon as Mellanides had accompanied An- 
 dros to the presence of Lydda, forgetting the 
 wine he had boasted of, he went away hur- 
 riedly out into his famous rose garden, where 
 he spent many hours each day. 
 
 Once more Andros was enthralled by 
 Lydda's wonderful beauty and womanly 
 grace. She received him with the easy 
 familiarity of old. The calm and poise she 
 maintained as ever. The queenly pose, the 
 graceful- gestures of her long shapely arms, 
 even the folds of her white Grecian drapery 
 gave him the keenest pleasure. The more 
 impassioned his love became, the farther 
 away and the more unattainable she ap- 
 peared. Would such manly, honest love 
 never touch a responsive chord in her heart? 
 Surely she could read his love in his face. 
 
 "What if I come, fairest of Ephesians, to 
 put in practice the lessons thou hast taught 
 me," he began. 
 
 "On the zither? That is delightful! I 
 will have them brought. Girls " 
 
 She turned to her slave girls in a far cor- 
 ner of the peristyle. 
 
 "No, no, Lydda. Thou mistakest. Rather 
 on the heart-strings of the fairest of mor- 
 tals!" 
 
 Lydda blushed slightly. Such words were 
 sweet to her coming from one she loved in 
 secret. 
 
 "Thou hast been a clever teacher. Saidst 
 thou not to me how a woman should love?
 
 REPULSED 241 
 
 Although thou wouldst not teach me a man's 
 wooing, I think I have wit enough to see it 
 doth not vary much from that of woman's." 
 
 "I remember that I told thee how a woman 
 loves. Thou wert to tell me how a man 
 should love and woo." 
 
 Andros was not certain whether she was 
 in earnest, or merely like children in their 
 games, rehearsing a play intended only 
 for amusement. 
 
 "In this my heart shall be my teacher and 
 I its docile pupil. This is how I would 
 begin " 
 
 Just* at that moment the excited voice of 
 Mellanides was heard calling: 
 
 "Ho! ho! Lydda! Lydda! Andros! Hast 
 heard the news? 'Tis wonderful ! Aratus is 
 drowned in the Sacred Port no, in the city 
 port. His body was found this morning. 
 Poor young man!" 
 
 "Aratus dead!" screamed Lydda, in a 
 paroxysm of excitement. She rushed to 
 Andros. 
 
 "Oh ! oh ! I am glad glad ! The gods O 
 Andros, Andros, thou dost not know! I 
 feared him. I feared for my life. I hated 
 him. He had sworn to make me his wife. 
 Now he is dead dead ! Thou wouldst have 
 protected me, wouldst thou not? Let us 
 rejoice." 
 
 By the occasional catching of her breath 
 it was plain that she was becoming hyster- 
 
 16
 
 242 REPULSED 
 
 ical, notwithstanding the note of exultation 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Calm thyself, dear lady. There is nought 
 to fear. Seat thyself here and tell me all." 
 
 He gently pushed her down on the cush- 
 ions of the marble bench. It was some min- 
 utes before she regained her composure. 
 While waiting for her to recover, Andros 
 was amazed at the sudden transitions from 
 calm to the greatest emotionalism which she 
 manifested. It was a phase of a highly sensi- 
 tive woman's nature which he did not pre- 
 tend to understand. 
 
 * 
 
 When she had regained control of herself 
 sufficiently to be able to talk coherently, she 
 told him of all the advances of Aratus, of his 
 veiled threats, of his recently discovered im- 
 pecuniosity, and of her fear of him. As the 
 relation progressed he began to understand 
 the reason of her strange conduct on his for- 
 mer visit. Mixed with the sentiment of 
 anger that was taking possession of him was 
 a feeling of gladness, arising from the ac- 
 knowledged fact that she looked to him for 
 protection. 
 
 "His shade is now in Orcus," said the 
 lover. "Thou hast nothing more to fear 
 from him. Hadst thou told me before of 
 this annoyance, I would have protected thee, 
 even with my life." 
 
 Lydda looked up suddenly. Gratitude 
 shone in her large eyes, now wet with tears. 
 
 "I know thou wouldst, dear friend."
 
 REPULSED 243 
 
 "Friend ! O my Lydda, may I not be, wilt 
 thou not call me, more than mere friend? 
 Lydda! Lydda! canst thou not see? Dost 
 thou not know? Lydda, I love thee love 
 thee passionately, ardently. I offer thee a 
 love such as no man ever offered woman be- 
 fore. Be mine. Give me the right to pro- 
 tect thee. I cannot live without thee. Wilt 
 thou not crown my happiness by giving thy- 
 self to me?" 
 
 Lydda made to rise from her sitting pos- 
 ture. Andros quickly stretched forth his 
 hand to assist her. She retained it when she 
 stood in front of him. She then placed her 
 other hand over his. He regarded this as a 
 good omen. 
 
 "Andros, friend of my childhood," she 
 said, "I will confess that I love thee. I have 
 loved thee long." 
 
 A rapturous "Ah!" and he was about to 
 fold her to his breast. She repelled the ad- 
 vance by an almost imperceptible stiffening 
 of her arms. 
 
 "Listen, Andros. I love thee, and my af- 
 fections can never be given to another. Yet 
 yet oh, be not angry I cannot marry 
 thee. Ask me not to explain. Thou must 
 have patience. If thou lovest me as thou 
 safest, time may clear the mystery for both 
 of us." 
 
 "But, my love, listen one moment. I can- 
 not live without thee! Thou art the sun of
 
 244 REPULSED 
 
 my life! Send me not out into darkness. 
 Have pity!" 
 
 "It cannot be!" 
 
 She took away her left hand, and as de- 
 terminedly withdrew her right. Slowly her 
 hands dropped to her side. Steadily looking 
 into the face of Andros, but with eyes that 
 glistened with moisture, as one in a dream 
 she moved slowly away until at last she 
 passed behind the arras of her own apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Andros was dazed. He stood with his 
 hands still supplicatingly outstretched 
 towards the direction where she had disap- 
 peared. He seemed to be suffering from a 
 horrible dream. As soon as his benumbed 
 mind recovered from the shock it had re- 
 ceived, he threw the folds of his toga over 
 his shoulder, jumped the low parapet of the 
 open side of the peristyle, and with long 
 swinging steps made all haste for the city. 
 
 Mellanides, in his rose garden, seeing him, 
 called: 
 
 "Ho! Andros! Ho! thou art not going so 
 soon? Thou wilt stay for the evening 
 meal?" 
 
 He heard the old man's kindly call, but did 
 not heed it. Mellanides went at once to the 
 house. 
 
 "Hast thou quarrelled with Andros?" he 
 asked his daughter, sharply. 
 
 She answered simply: 
 
 "No."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 The rejected lover walked many miles that 
 afternoon and evening. The shattering of 
 all his hopes was a severe blow. Blindly he 
 strode along, he knew nor cared not whither, 
 at one time rinding himself in the midst of 
 the busy throng of the agora, and later 
 threading the winding paths that crossed 
 and recrossed each other in the grove of 
 Diana. When he realized where he was, he 
 turned from the place in disgust. At night- 
 fall he found himself in the vicinity of the 
 old house of Pelopidas, the residence of 
 Elymas. He debated with himself whether 
 he should, at this late hour, visit the family 
 and disturb them with his troubles. Per- 
 haps Abdiel was there. He could unfold to 
 him all his disappointment and receive ad- 
 vice and consolation. Elymas, he knew, 
 would prove a sympathetic listener. But 
 why, he asked himself, should he upset the 
 peace and serenity of this charitable family? 
 Why bring disturbance into their calm lives? 
 He had experienced so much kindness at 
 their hands that he felt it would be ungrate- 
 ful, and in a sense unfair, to make them the 
 repository of his sorrows. And yet he was 
 
 245
 
 246 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 in that state of mind in which he felt it im- 
 perative to unfold his grief to some one. 
 Who would listen with more helpful sym- 
 pathy than the members of this family? 
 
 Without conscious knowledge of how he 
 arrived there he found himself on the porch 
 of the farmhouse. He did not enter the 
 house, but sat down, his elbows on his knees 
 and his face buried in his hands, a prey to 
 the most gloomy thoughts. His life's am- 
 bition seemed to have slipped away from 
 him. He reviewed his career, scrutinizing 
 himself severely, as if to find a justification 
 in his own conduct for Lydda's rejection of 
 him. His past, in the light of his new knowl- 
 edge, was not such as to produce a favorable 
 verdict, but judging himself by his former 
 pagan standard he could not say that his 
 life had been such that a woman who was a 
 worshipper of Diana would reject him, even 
 if she were acquainted with all its details. 
 
 He derived one benefit from his inspec- 
 tion. His new belief in the Christ made 
 him conscious of the higher moral standard 
 which would be demanded of him, and, 
 withal, there was one golden thread of hope 
 running through the tangled skein of his 
 unhappy thoughts. Lydda had said she 
 loved him. This was a joy and a consola- 
 tion. What might he not yet hope for? 
 Would she not some day be induced to 
 change her mind when the unknown and 
 intangible obstacle was removed?
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 247 
 
 He asked himself whether he had acted 
 fairly and justly with her in not informing 
 her of his change of faith. Would it have 
 made any difference in the result? He could 
 not tell. Oh ! if Lydda could be induced to 
 accept this new belief! At least she loved 
 him. She had declared this. This was the 
 one ray of cheering light in his gloom of 
 soul. This was his golden thread of hope 
 which, joined to the strong desire that at 
 some time she would be brought to see the 
 beauties of the new faith, caused him to 
 throw off some of his depression. 
 
 How was he to set about converting her 
 to the faith of Christ? The doubt came to 
 him during his long evening cogitation 
 whether action to this end on his part would 
 be honorable. If she were to accept the new 
 religion, it must be for its own sake, not for 
 his. On the other hand, if she were finally 
 to accept him and he believed that in some 
 way this would come to pass she must ac- 
 cept him for his own sake, and not for any 
 creed he held. 
 
 As he thought these things over, his de- 
 sire became stronger to secure for her the 
 new knowledge so lately acquired by him- 
 self. He saw plainly that after the events 
 of that afternoon he could not be her in- 
 structor. Perhaps Elymas, or even Abdiel, 
 would undertake the task. 
 
 Filled with a new hope, he knocked at the 
 door. The family welcomed him as usual.
 
 248 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 They were not surprised to see him so late 
 at night, as his visits were made at any hour. 
 Elymas thought that business interests kept 
 him thus late on this occasion. 
 
 "Thou art a veritable night-bird," said 
 Elymas, playfully, "yet thy room is ready. 
 It is always saved for thee." 
 
 "Thanks, my worthy friend. May the 
 Christ bless thee." 
 
 "And thine. May he bless thee, too." 
 
 "I fain would talk to thee in the garden, 
 Elymas, if it be not too late for thee." 
 
 As they slowly paced up and down the 
 garden path, Andros told him, first, of his 
 bitter disappointment, and then of his re- 
 viving hopes, and finally of his project for 
 the conversion of Lydda. 
 
 "Wilt thou go to her and teach her of the 
 Christ?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "Nay, nay, my impetuous friend, that can 
 hardly be done. We do not go out at pres- 
 ent to search for disciples here in Ephesus. 
 Should the lady thou speakest of desire in- 
 struction, we would gladly give it. While 
 the church in Ephesus is still in its infancy 
 it would be folly to be too bold, and by incit- 
 ing opposition, and perhaps persecution, to 
 undo all we have done." 
 
 "Canst thou not suggest some other 
 plan?" 
 
 "Thou hast in thine own power an effec- 
 tive means." 
 
 "What? Tell me. I will at once put it
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 249 
 
 into execution," said Andros, eagerly. "I 
 will do anything if I may yet win her." 
 
 Elymas saw clearly the very human side 
 of Andros' zeal, and smiled. 
 
 "Thou canst pray to the Christ that he 
 may send her the light of faith as he hath 
 sent it to thee. When thou hast received 
 the holy waters on thy brow thy prayers will 
 be more efficacious. Do not imagine, An- 
 dros, that I do not sympathize with thee in 
 thy disappointment. My heart goes out to 
 thee in sympathy. When thou art received 
 into the mystical body of Christ thou wilt 
 learn better how to bear trials and difficul- 
 ties, and turn them to thine own good. I 
 know thy heartache at the present time. I 
 feel for thee. Perhaps- it is the Christ who 
 is testing thy soul now to reward thee with 
 greater consolation in the future." 
 
 "I thank thee, Elymas. Thou hast always 
 been my friend. Didst thou not tell me that 
 the love of man for woman was one of the 
 benignest gifts of God to man?" 
 
 "In the natural order, yes; and I repeat it; 
 but forget not that there is an overruling 
 Providence, son, that directs all things. 
 Look at this event in the light of the new 
 faith. Believe me, it is all for the best. Per- 
 haps hadst thou won thy Lydda, she might 
 have turned thee back to her false gods." 
 
 "Never!" said Andros, emphatically, "but 
 I believe she would have come with me to 
 the new one."
 
 250 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 "May God grant that this may come to 
 pass. She loveth thee, thou sayest; do not 
 despair then of winning her. God directeth 
 all things." 
 
 "Thou hast a faithful steward," continued 
 Elymas, "in the market-place to look to thine 
 interests. Thine absence from thine own 
 house can be arranged. Stay with us for 
 some time, Andros, and let Abdiel, who 
 comes again to-morrow, and myself, finish 
 thy instruction, so that thou wilt be ready 
 to receive baptism. Thou knowest that thou 
 art always welcome. Thy room is ready." 
 
 The prospect of spending a few days once 
 more within the peaceful walls of the home 
 of Elymas, in his present perturbed condi- 
 tion, was particularly inviting to Andros. 
 The companionship of David, to whom he 
 was sincerely attached, the kindly advice 
 which the years and experience of Elymas 
 rendered him capable of giving, and the re- 
 ligious instruction and the marvelous stories 
 of the Christ which fell from the lips of 
 Abdiel, were all inducements to him to accept 
 the invitation. 
 
 "I will return to mine own house to-night, 
 my kind friend, but I will be with thee by 
 the noon meal to-morrow." 
 
 "Thou art welcome. When thou comest 
 I will tell thee of the time I saw the Christ," 
 said Elymas. 
 
 Andros walked home in better spirits than 
 were his for many hours since the unpro-
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 251 
 
 pitious interview with the daughter of Mel- 
 lanides. He wondered whether he would 
 again be thrilled by the story of Elymas, as 
 he had been by that of Abdiel. 
 
 The next evening saw the two sitting in 
 the grape arbor where Abdiel had told his 
 wonderful tale of Nairn. 
 
 "Thou hast seen the Christ, too?" asked 
 Andros. 
 
 "Aye, more than once," the other replied. 
 "Wouldst thou hear the account of a great 
 miracle? Before I came to this city my 
 home was in Ascalon by the sea. I went to 
 the holy city of Jerusalem frequently. Two 
 years before the event I am about to relate, 
 I saw the great Teacher. At the time this 
 miracle took place I was again in Jerusalem. 
 
 "There was at this time an unrest among 
 the followers of Christ. There had been 
 marvelous stories circulated. Every one was 
 looking for some portentous event to take 
 place, yet none knew exactly what to expect. 
 There were in Jerusalem probably five hun- 
 dred people who accepted the divinity of 
 Christ and worshipped him as God. All 
 these, at this time, were, in some vague way, 
 waiting for some great event to happen. A 
 fair proportion of this number believed that 
 Christ was about to establish his* throne in 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 "The divine Teacher had founded his 
 Church and had given his apostles power to 
 teach and baptize throughout the world.
 
 252 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 One morning, the Lord came out into the 
 streets of the city, openly showing himself 
 to the people after his resurrection. Thou 
 must know, O Andros, that he appeared to 
 but few people, and only at intervals, after 
 his coming back to life. 
 
 "The morning I mention he came into the 
 streets, accompanied by his chosen band of 
 apostles, his mother, and some of the women 
 who had followed and ministered to him 
 and his twelve for the past three years. 
 
 "I was standing in the street not far from 
 the house whence they emerged. That 
 which immediately impressed me was the 
 exultation and joyousness that marked every 
 countenance of that little group. I could 
 only compare it to the consciousness in each 
 of the sudden possession of some invaluable 
 treasure. In a very short time little com- 
 panies of two or three joined those who were 
 going toward the fish-gate in the city wall 
 towards the east. 
 
 "The size of the gathering continually in- 
 creased as the word went from mouth to 
 mouth that the risen Master was again in 
 Jerusalem. By the time he passed through 
 the city gate he was followed by several hun- 
 dreds of men and women. His presence had 
 a wonderful fascination for the multitude. 
 From him seemed to emanate a joyousness 
 that filled all hearts. 
 
 "I, who already believed, was influenced 
 by an indefinable joy that was ringing in
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 253 
 
 my heart. It gave me courage to do and 
 dare all for this great one whom all loved, 
 and who, we felt, loved us all in so ineffable 
 a manner that it is not easy to explain. 
 
 "As the great Teacher walked slowly 
 along the Bethany road, he spoke freely with 
 those who were near him. Never did he ap- 
 pear more fair or beautiful. Every trace of 
 the cruelty of his sufferings had disappeared, 
 except that we saw, with the greatest sense 
 of awe, when in conversation he gracefully 
 waved his hand, the mark of the wound the 
 nail had made. 
 
 "I had seen the Master more than once 
 before his passion. I regarded him at those 
 times as the most beautiful of the sons of 
 men. Now there was a different kind of 
 beauty in him. The features were ethereal- 
 ized. In looking into that face it was diffi- 
 cult to imagine it was not in some way trans- 
 parent. We caught, as it were, a faint 
 glimpse of his divine nature shining through 
 his human features. It made our hearts, 
 notwithstanding the awe we felt, go out to 
 him in love and adoration. As he talked, we 
 felt that we were strengthened by his grace 
 and marvelous love. I felt myself to be in 
 the sweetest atmosphere of holiest peace. 
 My heart expanded and I loved all mankind. 
 
 "Christ, having gone but a short distance 
 outside the city wall, turned into a garden 
 and walked to the summit of a small hill. 
 Five hundred men and women grouped
 
 254 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 themselves around him as he spoke. Never 
 shall I forget that sea of loving, expectant, 
 upturned faces! I stood near the top of the 
 hill. Casting a glance towards the city, I 
 saw with alarm that there was considerable 
 commotion among the people gathered on 
 the city wall near the fish-gate. The soldiers 
 appeared uneasy at seeing so large a gath- 
 ering near the city, probably expecting an 
 uprising. I saw a Roman officer, whom I 
 recognized as the one who had pierced the 
 side of our Lord with a spear, talking and 
 gesticulating to the people on the wall. He 
 evidently reassured both the soldiers and the 
 people, for the signs of excitement and the 
 running to and fro suddenly ceased. I could 
 see that many were endeavoring to secure a 
 favorable position, in order to witness what- 
 ever was to take place. 
 
 "Some of our company who could not get 
 near the small elevation in the garden filled 
 the public road. From my position I saw 
 these hindered the progress of a caravan of 
 camels coming from the north through 
 Jericho. Many of the tired beasts, as soon 
 as their way was obstructed, at once lay 
 down in the dust of the road. Others stood, 
 meekly ruminating, swaying their long necks 
 from side to side. 
 
 "Now the most marvelous thing in the 
 world began to happen. Christ continued 
 to speak, and as he did so I imagined there 
 was an increase in the height of his stature,
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 255 
 
 but on looking closer I found I was mis- 
 taken. Looking down to the rock on which 
 he was standing, I found that, instead of 
 increasing in stature, he was not standing 
 upon the ground, but was in the air several 
 inches above it. 
 
 "Very slowly he began to rise. When he 
 was about a head and shoulders above the 
 amazed company, he raised his right hand 
 and blessed them all with the sign of the 
 cross. I do not know the length of time 
 occupied in the ascension. We lost all re- 
 membrance of the passing minutes in our 
 awed amazement. After the blessing given 
 to the multitude, and one long, loving look 
 at his holy mother, the Lord ascended 
 higher. With hands now upraised, as if 
 impatient for the embrace of his heavenly 
 Father, he slowly ascended. Then we 
 caught again another faint glimpse of the 
 ineffable majesty of his divinity. His gar- 
 ments became effulgent. Never, never shall 
 I forget that wonderful vision. A bright- 
 ness surrounded him that was almost blind- 
 ing to our mortal sight. 
 
 "Thabor! Thabor again!' I heard Peter 
 say, in an awed whisper. 
 
 "We on the summit of the hill dropped on 
 our knees. Slowly the great figure was still 
 ascending. Long we gazed with aching 
 eyes. Brilliant and ever more brilliant be- 
 came the light that surrounded him. Awed 
 and breathless we remained gazing, while
 
 256 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 far up in the heavens he appeared, not ob- 
 scurely, but as clearly as we had seen him a 
 few minutes before standing with us on the 
 summit. 
 
 "Then it appeared, in the haze of light 
 which began to surround him and shed its 
 refulgence on us below, as if thousands of 
 bright spirits came to meet and welcome 
 him. Whether they were the bright inhabit- 
 ants of heaven I could not be sure, because 
 the divine presence began to be less clear to 
 our vision. A glorious haze enveloped him. 
 The outlines of his form grew gradually in- 
 distinct, until the sight of his presence was 
 hidden in the cloud. 
 
 "In ecstatic adoration our faces were still 
 turned heavenward when we witnessed an- 
 other wonder! Two bright beings, shining 
 as the sun, appeared to cleave the vapors of 
 the cloud. At first there was nothing to be 
 seen except, as it were, two brilliant globes 
 of light. In a few moments the brilliancy 
 grew stronger and from the cloud emerged 
 two angelic forms. Slowly and with infinite 
 grace they descended to the earth where we 
 were. We were excited, as is natural, with 
 all these marvels. We were also filled with 
 the most consoling joy. Their appearance 
 and message was a confirmation that we had 
 not been under some illusion in what we had 
 witnessed. 
 
 'Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye looking 
 up into heaven? This Jesus, who is taken
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 257 
 
 up from you into heaven, shall so come as 
 ye have seen him going into heaven/ 
 
 "We needed not the angels' confirmation 
 of what we ourselves had witnessed, yet the 
 message filled our hearts with a superabun- 
 dant flood of happiness. 
 
 "Amid our exultation of heart and our 
 exaltation of mind, amid all the sweet conso- 
 lation there was present one touch of pathos. 
 Perhaps it accentuated our happiness, as a 
 discord brings into greater prominence the 
 harmony of music. The Lord gave us the 
 last proof of his divinity by ascending into 
 heaven by his own power, but he left his 
 holy mother behind. 
 
 "None but those who saw her face at that 
 supreme moment will ever fully realize what 
 parting means! What longing was shown 
 on her face! While bowing with absolute 
 submission and with all the powers of her 
 soul, yet she was losing her son! Her 
 whole soul was in her eyes as she followed 
 his receding figure. At the close of this most 
 tremendous scene in the world's history, 
 Mary appeared overwrought and almost ex- 
 hausted by the excess of her varied and con- 
 tending emotions. John, to whose care she 
 had been confided, led her away to his 
 home." 
 
 "Having come into the world, why did 
 Christ leave it?" asked Andros, who with 
 breathless eagerness drank in the wonderful 
 story. In the light of the moon Elymas 
 
 17
 
 258 THE GLORY OF THABOR 
 
 could see the young man's eyes flash in his 
 excitement, and his face flush, and hear his 
 breathing shorten as the story proceeded. 
 
 "For this reason, for one, my son," replied 
 Elymas, "that his followers should hence- 
 forth have the merit of faith. It is our duty 
 as followers of Christ to conform our lives 
 to the teachings he has given us. Small 
 merit would attach itself to us for our obe- 
 dience if we were always under the spell of 
 his wonderful presence. Henceforth the 
 just must live by faith, and faith is the evi- 
 dence of things not seen." 
 
 The relation of Mary's part in the ascen- 
 sion had deeply interested Andros. 
 
 "Oh! could I but once see her!" he ex- 
 claimed, with great fervor, "could I but once 
 look upon her who bore the Saviour, ho\ 
 privileged I should be! Methinks I shall 
 take the journey to Jerusalem to see this 
 holiest one." 
 
 "Thou hast no need. Rememberest thou 
 the excitement, and the number of visitors 
 coming and going to my house not long ago ? 
 I promised I would explain. This commo- 
 tion was caused by information having 
 reached the believers in Christ who dwell in 
 Ephesus that the Apostle John and the 
 Mother of Christ are about to come to this 
 city. Persecutions against his followers 
 have begun in Judea. Following their di- 
 vine Master's instructions concerning those
 
 THE GLORY OF THABOR 259 
 
 who persecute us, they leave, at least for a 
 time, their ungrateful land." 
 
 "And shall I I be privileged to look 
 upon this wonderful one! I had almost said, 
 this goddess, but I know that is false." 
 
 "Yes, that is false," said Elymas. "Al- 
 though her son was divine she is not divine, 
 yet she is the one creature nearest to the 
 Godhead, the most exalted of created beings, 
 for she hath given to the world a Saviour." 
 
 "I can easily understand that she is the 
 greatest of created beings in the universe. 
 Veneration for her is the most logical result 
 of her high dignity." 
 
 "When thou hast been admitted to the 
 sacred mysteries thou shalt see her."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 WHERE LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 The instruction of Andros proceeded sat- 
 isfactorily. In a short time he was regener- 
 ated in the waters of baptism. He found 
 that the deeper he investigated into the 
 truths of the religion of Christ the fuller be- 
 came the satisfaction of his enquiring mind. 
 He saw that he had embraced no shadowy 
 belief, vaguely founded on fable, but a com- 
 pact and coherent system of doctrine and 
 precept, adapted to satisfy the enquiries of 
 the loftiest intellect and the simplest mind. 
 The mode of life it prescribed and which was 
 exemplified by all the believers in the city 
 and Andros was astonished when he learned 
 of their numbers accorded with his ideas 
 of what a man should be and do. The life of 
 the followers of Diana had displeased and 
 disgusted him by the licentiousness practiced 
 in the name of religion. His aspirations for 
 a purer worship found their fruition in the 
 religion in which he was daily being more 
 fully instructed. 
 
 The joy of heart which he experienced 
 subsequent to his baptism was very great. 
 One effect of this was his desire to go out 
 into the streets, the agora, the circus, preach- 
 
 260
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 261 
 
 ing the new doctrine. This fervor was to 
 be used in after years to good effect, but be- 
 ing at present only the untried and probably 
 injudicious zeal of the neophyte, he was 
 restrained by Abdiel and his friend Elymas. 
 
 His consolation and satisfaction on being 
 admitted for the first time to the Christian 
 mysteries, was proportionate to the awe 
 which fell upon him when he realized their 
 tremendous import. It was then that he 
 learned the meaning of those mysterious 
 sounds he first heard when he fled to the 
 house of Elymas for safety. He had heard 
 many voices repeating psalms and prayers. 
 
 When, at last, he was permitted to par- 
 ticipate in the mysteries, which was not for 
 some time after he had been allowed to be 
 present, his exultation was so great that he 
 thought there was nothing lacking to him to 
 make him completely happy but to die at 
 once. 
 
 The greater the ardor with which he fol- 
 lowed the teachings of Abdiel, who went 
 from one little community to another, in- 
 structing, baptising, and offering the sacred 
 mysteries for the ever-increasing number of 
 converts, the less did his own personal dis- 
 appointment with regard to his rejection by 
 Lydda appear. At times of peculiarly great 
 fervor he forgot her altogether, but when- 
 ever this fervor cooled, or the tension of 
 mind relaxed from the consideration of su- 
 pernatural things, his love for her and the
 
 262 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 grief at the loss of her came back with 
 redoubled force. 
 
 At length, after many days of delay, Da- 
 vid, the son of Elymas, was sent to the house 
 of Andros to inform him that the two great 
 personages had arrived in Ephesus. David 
 did not know where they were sojourning. 
 He was sent to invite Andros to his father's 
 house on the following day that he might 
 meet John, the apostle whom Jesus loved. 
 
 "But the great Mary! Am I not to see 
 her as well?" asked Andros in great excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "My father hath not told me. My mes- 
 sage was to thee that John would come to 
 our house. It may be that we are not holy 
 enough to be admitted to the presence of 
 the mother of Christ!" 
 
 "Tell thy good father that I will be with 
 him at the sixth hour, in time for the noon- 
 day meal." 
 
 Andros, although his expectations ran 
 high, and his fervor was kindled at the pros- 
 pect of seeing one who was so long in the 
 company of the Lord, was unprepared to see 
 John as he was at this stage of his apostolic 
 career. 
 
 He appeared to Andros to be a tall, mus- 
 cular man, with broad shoulders and long 
 arms. He stood perfectly erect with an 
 almost military precision in all his move- 
 ments. When Andros arrived he caught 
 his first glimpse of John, who was at that
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 263 
 
 moment walking in the garden. By the way 
 that he planted his feet firmly on the ground, 
 Andros at once knew that he was a man of 
 more than ordinary decision of character. 
 When the new convert spoke with him he 
 observed the characteristic of incisiveness 
 and clearness of thought, for the words were 
 clean-cut and sharp, although not brusque. 
 
 Andros could not but recall the descrip- 
 tion which Abdiel had given of the personal 
 appearance of Christ, whom the latter had 
 seen at Nairn. He compared the picture of 
 his memory with the man before him. He 
 found there was a strong resemblance. 
 John's hair was long and of the same golden- 
 brown as Christ's. His eyes were dark-blue 
 and full of love. The nose was straight, and 
 the lips were rather thin, but red with the 
 color of health. His face was not white. It 
 was much tanned, as if frequently exposed 
 to sun and wind in long journeys. 
 
 Although it was now many years since he 
 relinquished the rough occupation of a fish- 
 erman on the sea of Galilee at the call of his 
 Master, yet his hands still bore the marks of 
 hard toil and were strong and vigorous, not- 
 withstanding the fingers were long and ta- 
 pering and the wrists small. The lip and the 
 prominent part of the chin were covered with 
 light brown hair of short growth which did 
 not hide the manly contour of the jaw. The 
 hair, slightly wavy, enhanced the charm of 
 a handsome face which was manly and sin-
 
 264 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 cere. The eyebrows were a shade or two 
 darker than the hair on the lip. In this first 
 short visit to the city of Diana, where after- 
 wards he was to spend so many years of his 
 life, the apostle appeared to be in the full 
 prime of vigorous manhood. 
 
 While the features, individually, were 
 nothing remarkable, the face was very pleas- 
 ing. The countenance indicated surpassing 
 moral strength. In the glance of the eye 
 one saw a restrained fire a moral power 
 which could conquer a world. Gentleness 
 and extraordinary meekness were untinged 
 with the slightest weakness of character. At 
 once the observer realized that John had a 
 profound insight into character, coupled with 
 the tenderness of a mother for the erring. 
 Decision and strength were in the eagle 
 glance of the eye. The sensitive quivering 
 of the lips, responsive to any passing emo- 
 tion, showed also that if the occasion re- 
 quired he could be not only the man of iron, 
 but the gentle, sympathetic friend to the 
 wavering and the timid. 
 
 Above all this there was a dignity which 
 set him apart from the rest of men. It en- 
 compassed him, and no one of the followers 
 of his Master was ever known to intrench 
 upon it. At the Last Supper he reclined 
 upon the Saviour's breast, and at the foot of 
 the cross it had been given to him to care 
 for the Mother of Christ. These two tre- 
 mendous facts set him apart from the rest
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 265 
 
 of believers. This companionship left an in- 
 delible mark upon him which the rest of the 
 world recognized and honored. 
 
 The new convert had often heard from 
 his friends such marvelous reports concern- 
 ing John that he sometimes feared that his 
 expectations had been placed too high. He 
 remembered as one of the bitterest moments 
 of his life the disillusion and the shattering 
 of an ideal, as well as the disgust which fol- 
 lowed, when for the first time he saw the 
 great statue of Diana. He was learning, 
 with advancing years, that the reality often 
 falls short of a previous concept. He was 
 somewhat afraid of a repetition of former 
 experience when he should meet the apostle. 
 His expectations, however, were not disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Although John said or did but little to 
 Andros except receive him with a winning 
 grace, there was something about him which 
 filled Andros with a reverential love, which 
 never cooled in after years. The apostle's 
 influence over the little company of believers 
 in the city was profound, and Andros was 
 soon as completely under its power as the 
 rest. His whole life was to feel its effect, 
 for when he whom Jesus loved returned 
 again to Ephesus in after years, the master- 
 shipman was one of his most valued assist- 
 ants in the spreading of the faith. 
 
 A few days later Andros was again in 
 his company. At this time he was suffering
 
 266 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 from one of those mental reactions to whicE 
 high-strung natures are sometimes subject. 
 The ecstatically joyous condition of the soul 
 had somewhat subsided. He was now view- 
 ing the long vista of his future years in a 
 ra,ther gloomy mood. 
 
 Andros was wealthy and used to luxury, 
 at least in a moderate way. His house was 
 sumptuously furnished. He had never 
 known the want of money, nor the absence 
 of the niceties of life such as money can 
 purchase. Would he be required to dis- 
 tribute his wealth among the poor of the 
 little Christian communities? Could he be 
 content to live even the simple, honest, rus- 
 tic life of Elymas? The prospect appeared 
 to him a gloomy one, although no word on 
 this subject had been said to him by his 
 friends. It was a phase of mental condition 
 not uncommon to those in his position, al- 
 though it was new to him and therefore 
 harassing. 
 
 Suddenly his memory arrayed itself 
 against him. There flashed through his 
 mind pictures of the color and beauty and 
 brilliancy of some of the functions of the 
 worship of Diana. The contrast of these 
 and the present quiet and sombre worship 
 of the Christians was startling. The ritual 
 processions in their most ideal forms, as 
 youth sees them, the flower sacrifices of the 
 Artemision, came vividly before him in all 
 their alluring brilliancy and fascination.
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 267 
 
 How beautiful everything now appeared 
 which he had renounced forever ! Were light 
 and beauty, grace of form and nature's 
 choicest gifts to be renounced forever? 
 
 To add to his annoyance, Abdiel and 
 Elymas, for some reason unknown to him, 
 delayed in complying with his request to be 
 taken to see the mother of Christ. They 
 vouchsafed him no explanation of their re- 
 fusal to comply with his often expressed de- 
 sire, which, after having heard so much 
 about this holy and venerable person, was a 
 most natural one. He would have ventured 
 to make the visit alone, but they had care- 
 fully hidden from him the location of her 
 dwelling-place. 
 
 "I will see the great John," he said with 
 sudden resolve. "He will surely take me to 
 the mother of the Saviour." 
 
 The apostle, as soon as he saw the young 
 man's gloomy countenance, surmised the 
 cause of his depression. 
 
 "Thou art discouraged, my son. What 
 thou hast undertaken appears too hard and 
 too great now?" 
 
 Andros nodded a gloomy assent. 
 
 "Make no change whilst thou art in this 
 spirit," continued John. "This is not the 
 time. The sunshine of thy mind will soon 
 come again. Now thou canst see but one 
 step in the mist of the mountain side. Then 
 thou wilt laugh at what now appears hard 
 and insurmountable."
 
 268 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 Encouraged by John's kindly, sympathetic 
 manner, Andros told him how gloomy ap- 
 peared the future. "My mode of life," he 
 said, after he had manifested all his difficul- 
 ties, "is different from that of these good 
 people. Must I, while adopting their faith 
 in Christ, adopt also their manner of living?" 
 
 "That is not necessary, if thou findest re- 
 pugnance therein, although it is the more 
 perfect way. Christ can be served in every 
 honest state of life. Know ye that already 
 there are believers in the very household of 
 the Emperor?" 
 
 Andros thanked him. Already the clouds 
 of depression seemed to be rolling away. 
 
 "In the beginning," continued the apostle, 
 "all believers sold their goods and brought 
 the price to the feet of Peter, and lived the 
 common life. Already it is found that, by 
 the increase in numbers of those who follow 
 the God-man, this method of living is not 
 available for all. Thou seest that thy friend 
 Elymas liveth with his family only. There 
 are, too, many believers who are living in 
 their own houses, or as servants to pagans." 
 
 "I thank thee, sir. For the present I do 
 not desire to relinquish my properties." 
 
 "See that thou live not above thy station 
 in luxurious extravagance and thou canst be 
 happy, provided thou rememberest thine 
 obligations toward the necessitous. From 
 what I know of thee I am sure thou couldst 
 not be happy if thou wert aware that some
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 269 
 
 of thy brethren in the faith were wanting 
 bread." 
 
 "Indeed I could not, good sir. I will send 
 abundant alms to him whom thou dost ap- 
 point to receive and distribute it." 
 
 "Thou shalt be blessed in so doing. Yet 
 another thing is clouding thy mind. I see 
 thou art partially blinded by the glitter and 
 glamour of the sensuous-dominating wor- 
 ship of this city, where her genius and her art 
 are all-pervading. I grant thee that Diana is 
 known and worshipped under some form or 
 other in every part of the world. But I, John, 
 tell thee with the knowledge of prophecy 
 that this worship shall pass away so that 
 there shall not remain a vestige of it." 
 
 "Impossible!" exclaimed Andros. 
 
 "With God all things are possible. Thou 
 art half ashamed of our little, humble church 
 now with its few poor followers and humble 
 beginnings, but I tell thee, Andros, that this 
 church shall last to the end of time. It shall 
 spread to the uttermost parts of the earth. 
 In future years the world shall have or know 
 nothing greater, nothing grander. The gor- 
 geousness of its ceremonial, in the ages to 
 come, shall surpass the wildest flights of the 
 poet's fancy. The nations of the earth shall 
 bow before her, and kings shall be honored 
 if she accept their gifts. Many kings, in the 
 course of ages, shall lay their crowns at the 
 feet of Peter. She shall say with truth, 'By 
 me kings rule and legislators decree what is
 
 270 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 just.' Her enemies shall bow their necks be- 
 fore her, and their impotent rage she shall 
 laugh to scorn. Three kings bowed in lowly 
 adoration at the birth of Christ, and kings 
 shall ever be found to worship in her temples. 
 
 "Thou thinkest that the temple of Diana 
 is the farthest limit of man's creative skill. 
 In many lands fanes shall arise that shall so 
 far exceed it that by comparison it shall be 
 but as a fisherman's hut by the riverside. 
 The whole earth shall be filled with the mag- 
 nificence of the temples of the God of hosts. 
 Kings shall bring their gold, and princes 
 their treasures for their adorning. These 
 temples shall be grand and glorious, for in 
 them forever shall dwell the Lord of the 
 whole earth. People shall enter their courts 
 with fear and trembling, for the Lord God 
 Almighty shall dwell therein. 
 
 "From the gates of his temples shall flow 
 healing for the children of men. From 
 thence shall come the purification of the na- 
 tions, and all shall call upon His name. Great 
 is the God of our fathers who hath estab- 
 lished his law in our hearts. His reign shall 
 be the reign of love, and his church shall be 
 the bride of the eternal ages, adorned with 
 the merits of her founder and the holiness of 
 her children. She is the queen of time. Her 
 reign shall never cease. Canst thou not, O 
 Andros, see the wondrous vision? Art thou 
 not proud to be incorporated into such a
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 271 
 
 body that shall perpetuate the reign of 
 Christ in the souls of men forever?" 
 
 "Yes! yes! I see her glorious destiny. 
 She shall become the mistress of the world!" 
 exclaimed the young convert, all his gloom 
 now dissipated by this unfolding of the fu- 
 ture glories of the church. He had caught a 
 spark of the enthusiasm which was so char- 
 acteristic of John. He would not, however, 
 be diverted from the object of his visit. 
 
 "Tell me, O friend of Christ, when wilt 
 thou permit that I see with mine own eyes 
 the great Mother?" 
 
 John recognized the yearning tone of his 
 voice, and a chord of sympathy in his own 
 breast was touched. 
 
 "Thou and I and David and Abdiel shall 
 go at once. There hath been some necessary 
 delay. Thou wilt understand ere long." 
 
 The apostle looked significantly at David. 
 They both smiled in the knowledge of a mu- 
 tual secret. Andros was all eagerness to 
 start at once. The little company crossed 
 the city to the north at a rapid pace until 
 they came to the banks of the river Caystrus, 
 about half a mile east of the mansion of 
 Mellanides. 
 
 Having crossed the river, Andros walked 
 as in a dream through the beautiful woods, 
 until they came to a large stone house, where 
 they were at once admitted. After a short 
 rest, during which refreshments were set be-
 
 272 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 fore them, a matronly woman appeared and 
 greeted the young Ephesian Christian. 
 
 "Thou art not entirely unknown here," 
 she said; "the daughter of Mellanides hath 
 often spoken of thee." 
 
 "Art thou the good woman who helped 
 her when she met with the accident in the 
 forest?" 
 
 "That was my good fortune, young sir." 
 
 "Let me add my gratitude to hers for thy 
 kindly deed. Would that she had come to 
 thee as often as I have gone to Elymas, and 
 with the same happy result. Thou knowest 
 that I have been admitted to, and partaken 
 of, the Christian mysteries?" 
 
 "So Abdiel hath informed us, and he hath 
 told us likewise of thy rejection by the one 
 thou lovest." 
 
 "Ah!" sighed Andros, "happy as I am in 
 my new faith, I fear me I have lost her." 
 
 "Thou wouldst not marry a worshipper of 
 Diana?" asked the woman. 
 
 "How would it be possible? How could 
 there be union of heart, or fullest confidence? 
 It were impossible." 
 
 "Thou didst tell her of thy change of 
 faith?" 
 
 "Nay, I tried to win her with little thought 
 of these things. When she rejected me, we 
 were both of the same belief." 
 
 "Art thou sure of that, Andros?" 
 
 "Yes, although to be more exact, I was
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 273 
 
 beginning then to be regarded as a neophyte 
 by the Christian family of Elymas." 
 
 A significant smile, which was unseen by 
 Andros, passed between the elderly woman 
 and those who were listening. 
 
 "Wouldst thou not wish to see her again?" 
 
 "Ah ! that would I, but I fear the meeting 
 would result in nothing, and perhaps be pain- 
 ful to both. God hath been so good to me 
 that I must be content with the great gifts 
 he hath already given." 
 
 "What thinkest thou, Andros," asked Ab- 
 diel, the priest, "is the greatest gift God hath 
 bestowed upon thee?" 
 
 "The knowledge of himself the true 
 God," answered Andros emphatically. 
 
 "And wouldst thou be content with this 
 and be willing to relinquish the chance of 
 gaining Lydda as thy wife?" 
 
 "I would do anything compatible with my 
 newly found faith to win her, but alas! I 
 fear that will never be." 
 
 Again there were significant glances inter- 
 changed among the little group surrounding 
 the young Ephesian. 
 
 "Those of different belief could not marry, 
 you mean?" asked Abdiel. 
 
 "I do not say that," replied Andros, "but 
 I do not think I could marry an unbeliever 
 even if she were were Lydda." 
 
 The thought was painful to Andros, and 
 he sighed deeply. 
 
 "Oh!" he continued, "if she could be but
 
 274 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 brought into the Christian fold! She hath 
 admitted that she loves me, but for some 
 mysterious and unexplained reason she de- 
 clared that she could not marry me. She 
 refused me as a pagan. Would she, do you 
 think, do the same if she knew that I was a 
 Christian and became one herself?" 
 
 The elderly matron agreed with Abdicl 
 when he gave it as his opinion that there 
 was a probability of his being accepted 
 should Lydda accept the faith and become a 
 Christian. 
 
 "Then she must! she shall!" he exclaimed 
 impetuously. "I will devote my life to this 
 work. I will give all my wealth to this end. 
 I am sure she will put no obstacles in the 
 way to prevent the light of faith penetrating 
 her heart and illuminating her intellect. Oh ! 
 Abdiel my friend, priest of the one true God, 
 wilt thou not instruct her? I will lend my 
 aid. I will argue with her. She will listen. 
 I will teach her all I know. I will go at once. 
 The residence of Mellanides is not many 
 paces from here." 
 
 He made as if he would put into imme- 
 diate execution his newly formed project. 
 
 "Patience, my son," said Abdiel, smiling 
 at the impetuosity of the lover. He recog- 
 nized the very evident mundane foundation 
 of the zeal of the young Christian. 
 
 "Would thy motive, Andros, be entirely 
 single?" he asked. 
 
 "I I thought not of the motive, good
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 275 
 
 Abdiel. If we succeed in converting her and 
 I gain her, is not that motive enough?" 
 
 Abdiel laughed quietly at the eagerness of 
 the lover. He regarded him affectionately 
 for some time, for he, in common with all the 
 Christians of Ephesus, had the kindliest 
 feelings towards the bright young Ephesian. 
 
 "Scarcely a sufficient motive for the end to 
 be attained, my son," he said. "Thou hast 
 no need, however, to go to the house of Mel- 
 lanides. It may be thou wilt soon meet with 
 Lydda, for she is now under this roof, and 
 is with the young maidens in another part 
 of the house." 
 
 "Lydda here! So near! Let me go to 
 her."' 
 
 Turning to the matron, he said: 
 
 "Thou hast told me that she often cometh 
 here. I am fortunate. Take me to her, I 
 pray thee." 
 
 Abdiel and the elderly woman, both still 
 amused at his impetuosity, conducted him 
 the length of a long corridor to the other 
 end of the large mansion. On entering a 
 room, he saw six or seven young women en- 
 gaged in various occupations of spinning 
 flax, or in needlework. 
 
 The matron signalled to one of these, who 
 immediately left the room and returned a 
 moment later, bringing forward an ex- 
 tremely nervous but stately young woman 
 clad in a white robe. She was nervously 
 fingering a little silver fish which was at-
 
 276 LOVE MEETS FAITH 
 
 tached to a light chain she wore around her 
 neck. 
 
 Andros stood for a moment as one in a 
 daze. The woman he loved wearing the fish 
 the emblem of Christianity! Could it be 
 that his Lydda was but no ; such happiness 
 could not be for him. He had merited no 
 such bliss. She was still in the darkness of 
 paganism and idolatry. And yet that em- 
 blem! What did it all mean? 
 
 "Lydda! my Lydda!" 
 
 Not sure as yet whether his senses were 
 not deceiving him, he strode rapidly over to 
 where she was standing. 
 
 "Thou! thou a Christian!" 
 
 A faint blush overspread her countenance 
 as, not trusting herself to speak, she nodded 
 assent. 
 
 "Oh! then my joy is complete! thou lovest 
 me; thou hast said it. My love! my love!" 
 
 "And mine," she answered. "I refused 
 thee, Andros, believing thou wert still a pa- 
 gan. Didst thou not know that I gave up 
 the worship of Diana these many months?" 
 
 "I knew it not. Tell me how it all came 
 about," said Andros ecstatically, and the 
 daughter of Mellanides answered simply: 
 
 "The great Mother is here." 
 
 "Come, Andros," said John, who entered 
 at that moment, "she waits for thee." 
 
 The great apostle led the young convert 
 into the presence of the mother of Christ, 
 and left him alone with her.
 
 LOVE MEETS FAITH 277 
 
 It was then that Andros learned from the 
 lips of the Mother of the Church those 
 deeper mysteries of faith which made him a 
 tower of strength to others, and gave him 
 the courage in the time to come to devote 
 his wealth, and eventually to give his life for 
 the truth of the faith he had received. 
 
 As the great apostle let fall the arras he 
 saw the young man drop upon his knees, 
 overpowered by the majesty and supernal 
 holiness of her whom brush of artist, inspi- 
 ration of poet, or pen of writer has never yet 
 succeeded in adequately portraying.
 
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