CHAPTER IV.
The sun of the following day had long passed its meridian when Hermonat last woke. The steward Gras, who had grown gray in the service ofArchias, was standing beside the couch.
There was nothing in the round, beardless face of this well-fed yetactive man that could have attracted the artist, yet the quiet tones ofhis deep voice recalled to memory the clear, steadfast gaze of his grayeyes, from which so often, in former days, inviolable fidelity, soundsense, caution, and prudence had looked forth at him.
What the blind man heard from Gras surprised him--nay, at first seemedimpossible. To sleep until the afternoon was something unprecedented forhis wakeful temperament; but what was he to say to the tidings thatthe commandant of Pelusium had arrived in his state galley early inthe morning and taken his wife, Daphne, and Chrysilla away with him toAlexandria?
Yet it sounded credible enough when the Bithynian further informed himthat the ladies had left messages of remembrance for him, and said thatArchias's ship, upon which he was, would be at his disposal for anylength of time he might desire. Gras was commissioned to attend him. TheLady Thyone especially desired him to heed her counsel.
While the steward was communicating this startling news as calmly asif everything was a matter of course, the events of the preceding nightcame back to Hermon's memory with perfect distinctness, and again thefear assailed him that the rescued Demeter was the work of Myrtilus, andnot his own.
So the first question he addressed to Gras concerned the Tennisgoldsmith, and it was a keen disappointment to Hermon when he learnedthat the earliest time he could expect to see him would be the followingday. The skilful artisan had been engaged for weeks upon the goldornaments on the new doors of the holy of holies in the Temple of Amonat Tanis. Urgent business had called him home from the neighbouringcity just before the night of the attack; but yesterday evening he hadreturned to Tanis, where his wife said he would have only two days' workto do.
This answer, however, by no means appeased Hermon's impatience.He commanded that a special messenger should be sent to summon thegoldsmith, and the Bithynian received the order with a slight shake ofhis round head.
What new trouble had befallen the usually alert young artist that hereceived this unexpected change in his situation as apathetically asa horse which is led from one stall to another, and, instead ofquestioning him, thought only of hastening his interview with thegoldsmith? If his mistress, who had left him full of anxiety from thefear that her departure would deeply agitate the blind man, should learnhow indifferently he had received it! He, Gras, certainly would notbetray it. Eternal gods--these artists! He knew them. Their work wasdearer to their hearts than their own lives, love, or friendship.
During breakfast, of which the steward was obliged to remind him, Hermonpondered over his fate; but how could he attain any degree of clearnessof vision until he secured accurate information concerning the statueof Demeter? Like a dark cloud, which sweeps over the starry sky andprevents the astronomer from seeing the planets which he desires toobserve, the fear that Proclus's praise had been bestowed upon the workof Myrtilus stood between him and every goal of his thought.
Only the fact that he still remained blind, and not even the faintestglimmer of light pierced the surrounding darkness, while the suncontinued its course with glowing radiance, and that, blinded andbeggared, he must despise himself if he sought to win Daphne, wascertain. No reflection could alter it.
Again the peace of mind which he thought he had regained duringslumber was destroyed. Fear of the artisan's statement even rendered itimpossible to pray to his mother with the affectionate devotion he hadfelt the day before.
The goldsmith had directed the rescue of the Demeter, yet he wouldscarcely have been able to distinguish it from the statue by Myrtilus;for though, like his friend, he had often employed his skilful hands inthe arrangement of the gold plates at the commencement of the work, theEgyptian had been summoned to Tennis before the statues had attainedrecognisable form. He had not entered the studios for several months,unless Bias had granted him admittance without informing his master.This was quite possible, for the slave's keen eyes certainly had notfailed to notice how little he and Myrtilus valued the opinion of thehonest, skilful, but extremely practical and unimaginative man, whocould not create independently even the smallest detail.
So it was impossible to determine at present whether Chello had seenthe finished statues or not, yet Hermon desired the former with actualfervour, that he might have positive certainty.
While reflecting over these matters, the image of the lean Egyptiangoldsmith, with his narrow, brown, smooth-shaven face and skull,prominent cheek bones, receding brow, projecting ears and, with allits keenness, lustreless glance, rose before him as if he could seehis bodily presence. Not a single word unconnected with his trade,the weather, or an accident, had ever reached the friends' ears fromChello's thick lips, and this circumstance seemed to warrant Hermon inthe expectation of learning from him the pure, unadulterated truth.
Rarely had a messenger of love been awaited with such feverish suspenseas the slave whom Gras had despatched to Tanis to induce the goldsmithto return home. He might come soon after nightfall, and Hermon used theinterval to ask the Bithynian the questions which he had long expected.
The replies afforded little additional information. He learned only thatPhilippus had been summoned to Alexandria by the King, and that the LadyThyone and her husband had talked with the leech and assented to hisopinion that it would be better for Hermon to wait here until the burnson his face were healed before returning to Alexandria.
For Daphne's sake this decision had undoubtedly been welcome to thematron, and it pleased him also; for he still felt so ill physically,and so agitated mentally, that he shrank from meeting his numerousacquaintances in the capital.
The goldsmith! the goldsmith! It depended upon his decision whether hewould return to Alexandria at all.
Soon after Hermon had learned from Gras that the stars had risen, hewas informed that he must wait patiently for his interview with theEgyptian, as he had been summoned to the capital that very day by amessenger from Proclus.
Then the steward had fresh cause to marvel at his charge, for this newsaroused the most vehement excitement.
In fact, it afforded the prospect of a series--perhaps a long one--ofthe most torturing days and nights. And the dreaded hours actuallycame--nay, the anguish of uncertainty had become almost unendurable,when, on the seventh day, the Egyptian at last returned from Alexandria.They had seemed like weeks to Hermon, had made his face thinner, andmingled the first silver hairs in his black beard.
The calls of the cheerful notary and the daily visits of the leech, anelderly man, who had depressed rather than cheered him by informing himof many cases like his own which all proved incurable, had been his solediversion. True, the heads of the Greek residents of Tennis had alsosometimes sought him: the higher government officials, the lessees ofthe oil monopoly and the royal bank, as well as Gorgias, who, next toArchias the Alexandrian, owned the largest weaving establishments, butthe tales of daily incidents with which they entertained Hermonwearied him. He listened with interest only to the story of Ledscha'sdisappearance, yet he perceived, from the very slight impression it madeupon him, how little he had really cared for the Biamite girl.
His inquiries about Gula called down upon him many well-meant jests. Shewas with her parents; while Taus, Ledscha's young sister, was stayingat the brick-kiln, where the former had reduced the unruly slaves tosubmission.
Care had been taken to provide for his personal safety, for the attackmight perhaps yet prove to have been connected with the jealousy of theBiamite husbands.
The commandant of Pelusium had therefore placed a small garrison ofheavily armed soldiers and archers in Tennis, for whom tents had beenpitched on the site of the burned white house.
Words of command and signals for changing the guards often reachedHermon when he was on the deck of his ship, and visitors
praised thewise caution and prompt action of Alexander the Great's old comrade.
The notary, a vivacious man of fifty, who had lived a long time inAlexandria and, asserting that he grew dull and withered in littleTennis, went to the capital as frequently as possible, had often calledupon the sculptor at first, and been disposed to discuss art and theother subjects dear to Hermon's heart, but on the third day he againset off for his beloved Alexandria. When saying farewell, he had beenunusually merry, and asked Hermon to send him away with good wishesand offer sacrifices for the success of his business, since he hoped tobring a valuable gift on his return from the journey.
The blind artist was glad to have other visits for a short time, but hepreferred to be alone and devote his thoughts to his own affairs.
He now knew that his love was genuine. Daphne seemed the veryincarnation of desirable, artless, heart-refreshing womanliness, but hismemory could not dwell with her long; anxiety concerning Chello's reportonly too quickly interrupted it, as soon as he yielded to its charm.
He did not think at all of the future. What was he to appoint for a timewhich the words of a third person might render unendurable?
When Gras at last ushered in the goldsmith, his heart throbbed soviolently that it was difficult for him to find the words needed for thequestions he desired to ask.
The Egyptian had really been summoned to Alexandria by Proclus, not onaccount of the Demeter, but the clasp said to belong to Myrtilus, foundamid the ruins of the fallen house, and he had been able to identify itwith absolute positiveness as the sculptor's property.
He had been referred from one office to another, until finally theTennis notary and Proclus opened the right doors to him.
Now the importance of his testimony appeared, since the will of thewealthy young sculptor could not be opened until his death was proved,and the clasp which had been found aided in doing so.
Hermon's question whether he had heard any particulars about this willwas answered by the cold-hearted, dull-brained man in the negative.
He had done enough, he said, by expressing his opinion. He had gone toAlexandria unwillingly, and would certainly have stayed in Tennis if hecould have foreseen what a number of tiresome examinations he wouldbe obliged to undergo. He had been burning with impatience to quit theplace, on account of the important work left behind in Tanis, and hedid not even know whether he would be reimbursed for his travellingexpenses.
During this preliminary conversation Hermon gained the composure heneeded.
He began by ascertaining whether Chello remembered the interiorarrangement of the burned white house, and it soon appeared that herecollected it accurately.
Then the blind man requested him to tell how the rescue of the statuehad been managed, and the account of the extremely prosaic artisandescribed so clearly and practically how, on entering the burningbuilding, he found Myrtilus's studio already inaccessible, but thestatue of Demeter in Hermon's still uninjured, that the trustworthinessof his story could not be doubted.
One circumstance only appeared strange, yet it was easily explained.Instead of standing on the pedestal, the Demeter was beside it, and eventhe slow-witted goldsmith inferred from this fact that the robbers hadintended to steal it and placed it on the floor for that purpose, butwere prevented from accomplishing their design by the interference ofHermon and the people from Tennis.
After the Egyptian, in reply to the artist's inquiry concerning whatother works of art and implements he had seen in the studio, hadanswered that nothing else could be distinguished on account of thesmoke, he congratulated the sculptor on his last work. People werealready making a great stir about the new Demeter. It had been discussednot only in the workshop of his brother, who, like himself, followedtheir father's calling, but also in the offices, at the harbour, in thebarbers' rooms and the cookshops, and he, too, must admit that, for aGreek goddess, that always lacked genuine, earnest dignity, it reallywas a pretty bit of work.
Lastly, the Egyptian asked to whom he should apply for payment for theremainder of his labour.
The strip of gold, from which Hermon had ordered the diadem to be made,had attracted his attention on the head of his Demeter, and compensationfor the work upon this ornament was still due.
Hermon, deeply agitated, asked, with glowing cheeks, whether Chelloreally positively remembered having prepared for him the gold diademwhich he had seen in Alexandria, and the Egyptian eagerly assured himthat he had done so. Hitherto he had found the sculptors honest men, andHermon would not withhold the payment for his well-earned toil.
The artist strenuously denied such an intention; but when, in his desireto have the most absolute assurance, he again asked questions about thediadem, the Egyptian thought that the blind sculptor doubted the justiceof his demand, and wrathfully insisted upon his claim, until Grasmanaged to whisper, undetected by Hermon, that he would have the moneyready for him.
This satisfied the angry man. He honestly believed that he had preparedthe gold for the ornament on the head of the Demeter in Alexandria; yetthe statue chiselled by Myrtilus had also been adorned with a diadem,and Chello had wrought the strip of gold it required. Only it hadescaped his memory, because he had been paid for the work immediatelyafter its delivery.
Glad to obey his mistress's orders to settle at once any debts which theartist might have in Tennis, the steward followed the goldsmith whileHermon, seizing the huge goblet which had just been filled with wine andwater for him drained it at one long draught. Then, with sigh of relief,he restored it to its place, raised his hand and his blinded eyesheavenward, and offered a brief, fervent thanksgiving to his mother'ssoul and the great Demeter, whom, he might now believe it himself, hehad honoured with a masterpiece which had extorted warm admiration evenfrom a connoisseur unfriendly his art.
When Gras returned, he said, with a grin of satisfaction, that thegoldsmith was like all the rest of his countrymen. The artists did notowe him another drachm; the never-to-be-forgotten Myrtilus had paid forthe work ordered by Hermon also.
Then, for the first time since he had been led on board the ship, a gaylaugh rang fro the blind man's lips, rising in deep, pure, joyous tonesfrom his relieved breast.
The faithful gray eyes of honest Gras glittered with tears at themusical tones, and how ardently he wished for his beloved mistresswhen the sculptor, not content with this, exclaimed as gleefully as inhappier days: "Hitherto I have had no real pleasure from my successfulwork, old Gras, but it is awaking now! If my Myrtilus were still alive,and these miserable eyes yet possessed the power of rejoicing in thelight and in beautiful human forms, by the dog! I would have the mixingvessels filled, wreath after wreath brought, boon companions summoned,and with flute-playing, songs, and fiery words, offer the Muses,Demeter, and Dionysus their due meed of homage!"
Gras declared that this wish might easily be fulfilled. There was nolack of wine or drinking cups on the vessel, the flute-players whom hehad heard in the Odeum at Tanis did not understand their business amiss,flowers and wreaths could be obtained, and all who spoke Greek in Tenniswould accept his invitation.
But the Bithynian soon regretted this proposal, for it fell like ahoar-frost upon the blind man's happy mood. He curtly declined. He wouldnot play host where he was himself a guest, and pride forbade him to usethe property of others as though it were his own.
He could not regain his suddenly awakened pleasure in existence beforeGras warned him it was time to go to rest. Not until he was alone in thequiet cabin did the sense of joy in his first great success overpowerhim afresh.
He might well feel proud delight in the work which he had created, forhe had accomplished it without being unfaithful to the aims he had setbefore him.
It had been taken from his own studio, and the skilful old artisan hadrecognised his preliminary work upon the diadem which he, Hermon, hadafterward adorned with ornaments himself. But, alas! this first must atthe same time be his last great success, and he was condemned to live onin darkness.
Altho
ugh abundant recognition awaited him in Alexandria, his quicklygained renown would soon be forgotten, and he would remain a beggaredblind man. But it was now allowable for him to think secretly ofpossessing Daphne; perhaps she would wait for him and reject othersuitors until he learned in the capital whether he might not hope torecover his lost sight. He was at least secure against external want;the generous Archias would hardly withhold from him the prize hehad intended for the successful statue, although the second had beendestroyed. The great merchant would do everything for his fame-crownednephew, and he, Hermon, was conscious that had his uncle been in hissituation he would have divided his last obol with him. Refusal ofhis assistance would have been an insult to his paternal friend andguardian.
Lastly, he might hope that Archias would take him to the most skilfulleeches in Alexandria and, if they succeeded in restoring his lost powerof vision, then--then Yet it seemed so presumptuous to lull himself inthis hope that he forbade himself the pleasure of indulging it.
Amid these consoling reflections, Hermon fell asleep, and awoke fresherand more cheerful than he had been for some time.
He had to spend two whole weeks more in Tennis, for the burns healedslowly, and an anxious fear kept him away from Alexandria.
There the woman he loved would again meet him and, though he couldassure Thyone that Nemesis had turned her wheel away from him, he wouldhave been permitted to treat Daphne only with cool reserve, while everyfibre of his being urged him to confess his love and clasp her in hisarms.
Gras had already written twice to his master, telling him with whatgratifying patience Hermon was beginning to submit to his greatmisfortune, when the notary Melampus returned from Alexandria with newswhich produced the most delightful transformation in the blind artist'souter life.
More swiftly than his great corpulence usually permitted the jovial manto move, he ascended to the deck, calling: "Great, greater, the greatestof news I bring, as the heaviest but by no means the most dilatory ofmessengers of good fortune from the city of cities. Prick up your ears,my friend, and summon all your strength, for there are instances of thefatal effect of especially lavish gifts from the blind and yet oftensure aim of the goddess of Fortune. The Demeter, in whom you proved somarvellously that the art of a mortal is sufficient to create immortals,is beginning to show her gratitude. She is helping to twine wreaths foryou in Alexandria."
Here the vivacious man suddenly hesitated and, while wiping his plumpcheeks, perspiring brow, and smooth, fat double chin with his kerchief,added in a tone of sincere regret: "That's the way with me! In one thingwhich really moves me, I always forget the other. The fault sticks to melike my ears and nose. When my mother gave me two errands, I attended tothe first in the best possible way, but overlooked the second entirely,and was paid for it with my father's staff, yet even the blue wales madeno change in the fault. But for that I should still be in the city ofcities; but it robbed me of my best clients, and so I was transferredto this dullest of holes. Even here it clings to me. My detestableexultation just now proves it. Yet I know how dear to you was the deadman who manifests his love even from the grave. But you will forgive methe false note into which my weakness led me; it sprang from regard foryou, my young friend. To serve your cause, I forgot everything else.Like my mother's first errand, it was performed in the best possibleway. You will learn directly. By the lightnings of Father Zeus and theowl of Athene, the news I bring is certainly great and beautiful; buthe who yearned to make you happy was snatched from you and, though hisnoble legacy must inspire pleasure and gratitude, it will neverthelessfill your poor eyes with sorrowful tears."
Melampus turned, as he spoke, to the misshapen Egyptian slave whoperformed the duties of a clerk, and took several rolls from thedrumshaped case that hung around his neck; but his prediction concerningHermon was speedily fulfilled, for the notary handed him the will of hisfriend Myrtilus.
It made him the heir of his entire fortune and, however happy theunexpected royal gift rendered the blind man, however cheering mightbe the prospects it opened to him for the future and the desire ofhis heart, sobs nevertheless interrupted the affectionate words whichcommenced the document Melampus read aloud to him.
Doubtless the tears which Hermon dedicated to the most beloved of humanbeings made his blinded eyes smart, but he could not restrain them,and even long after the notary had left him, and the steward hadcongratulated him on his good fortune, the deep emotion of his tenderheart again and again called forth a fresh flood of tears consecrated tothe memory of his friend.
The notary had already informed the grammateus of the disposition whichMyrtilus had made of his property in Hermon's favour a few days before,but, by the advice of the experienced Proclus, the contents of the willhad been withheld from the sculptor; the unfortunate man ought to bespared any disappointment, and proof that Myrtilus was really among thevictims of the accident must first be obtained.
The clasp found in the ruins of the white house appeared to furnishthis, and the notary had put all other business aside and gone toAlexandria to settle the matter.
The goldsmith Chello, who had fastened a new pin to the clasp, and couldswear that it had belonged to Myrtilus, had been summoned to the capitalas a witness, and, with the aid of the influential grammateus ofthe Dionysian games and priest of Apollo, the zeal of Melampus hadaccomplished in a short time the settlement of this difficult affair,which otherwise might perhaps have consumed several months.
The violent death of Myrtilus had been admitted as proved by themagistrate, who had been prepossessed in Hermon's favour by hismasterpiece. Besides, no doubts could be raised concerning the validityof a will attested by sixteen witnesses. The execution of this lasttestament had been intrusted to Archias, as Myrtilus's nearest relative,and several other distinguished Alexandrians.
The amount of the fortune bequeathed had surprised even these wealthymen, for under the prudent management of Archias the property inheritedby the modest young sculptor had trebled in value.
The poor blind artist had suddenly become a man who might be termed"rich," even in the great capital.
Again the steward shook his head; this vast, unexpected inheritance didnot seem to make half so deep an impression upon the eccentric blindman as the news received a short time ago that his trivial debt to thegoldsmith Chello was already settled. But Hermon must have dearly lovedthe friend to whom he owed this great change of fortune, and grief forhim had cast joy in his immense new wealth completely into the shade.
This conjecture was confirmed on the following morning, for the blindman had himself led to the Greek necropolis to offer sacrifices to thegods of the nether world and to think of his friend.
When, soon after noon, the lessee of the royal bank appeared on the shipto offer him as many drachmae or talents as he might need for presentuse, he asked for a considerable sum to purchase a larger death-offeringfor his murdered friend. The next morning he went with the architectof the province to the scene of the conflagration, and had him mark thespot of ground on which he desired to erect to his Myrtilus a monumentto be made in Alexandria.
At sunset, leaning on the steward's arm, he went to the Temple ofNemesis, where he prayed and commissioned the priest to offer a costlysacrifice to the goddess in his name.
On the return home, Hermon suddenly stood still and mentioned to Grasthe sum which he intended to bestow upon the blind in Tennis. He knewnow what it means to live bereft of light, and, he added in a low tone,to be also poor and unable to earn his daily bread.
On the ship he asked the Bithynian whether his burned face had becomepresentable again, and no longer made a repulsive impression.
This Gras could truthfully assure him. Then the artist's featuresbrightened, and the Bithynian heard genuine cheerfulness ring in thetones of his voice as he exclaimed: "Then, old Gras, we will set out forAlexandria as soon as the ship is ready to sail. Back to life, to thesociety of men of my own stamp, to reap the praise earned by my owncreations, and to the only divine maiden amon
g mortals--to Daphne!"
"The day after to-morrow!" exclaimed the steward in joyous excitement;and soon after the carrier dove was flying toward the house of Archias,bearing the letter which stated the hour when his fame-crowned blindnephew would enter the great harbour of Alexandria.
The evening of the next day but one the Proserpina was bearing Hermonaway from the city of weavers toward home.
As the evening breeze fanned his brow, his thoughts dwelt sadly on hisMyrtilus. Hitherto it had always seemed as if he was bound, and mustcommit some atrocious deed to use the seething power condemned toinaction. But as the galley left the Tanitic branch of the Nile behind,and the blind man inhaled the cool air upon the calm sea, his heartswelled, and for the first time he became fully aware that, though thelight of the sun would probably never shine for him again, and thereforethe joy of creating, the rapture of once more testing his fetteredstrength, would probably be forever denied him, other stars mightperhaps illumine his path, and he was going, in a position of brilliantindependence, toward his native city, fame, and--eternal gods!--love.
Daphne had conquered, and he gave only a passing thought to Ledscha andthe hapless weaver Arachne.