CHAPTER VIII.
Without a word of explanation, Hermon dragged his guide along inbreathless haste. No one stopped them.
The atrium, usually swarming with guards, servants, and officials untila far later hour, was completely deserted when the blind man hurriedthrough it with his friend.
The door leading into the outer air stood open, but Hermon, leaning onthe scholar's arm, had scarcely crossed the threshold and entered thelittle courtyard encircled with ornamental plants, which separated thisportion of the palace from the street, when both were surrounded by aband of armed Macedonian soldiers, whose commander exclaimed: "In thename of the King! Not a sound, if you value your lives!"
Incensed, and believing that there was some mistake, Hermon announcedhimself as a sculptor and Crates as a member of the Museum, but thisstatement did not produce the slightest effect upon the warrior; nay,when the friends answered the officer's inquiry whether they were comingfrom Proclus's banquet in the affirmative; he curtly commanded them tobe put in chains.
To offer resistance would have been madness, for even Hermon perceived,by the loud clanking of weapons around them, the greatly superior powerof the enemy, and they were acting by the orders of the King. "To theprison near the place of execution!" cried the officer; and now not onlythe mythograph, but Hermon also was startled--this dungeon opened onlyto those sentenced to death.
Was he to be led to the executioner's block? A cold shudder ran throughhis frame; but the next moment he threw back his waving locks, and hischest heaved with a long breath.
What pleasure had life to offer him, the blind man, who was already deadto his art? Ought he not to greet this sudden end as a boon from theimmortals?
Did it not spare him a humiliation as great and painful as could beimagined?
He had already taken care that the false renown should not follow himto the grave, and Myrtilus should have his just due, and he would dowhatever else lay in his power to further this object. Wherever thebeloved dead might be, he desired to go there also. Whatever might awaithim, he desired no better fate. If he had passed into annihilation, he,Hermon, wished to follow him thither, and annihilation certainly meantredemption from pain and misery. But if he were destined to meet hisMyrtilus and his mother in the world beyond the grave, what had he notto tell them, how sure he was of finding a joyful reception there fromboth! The power which delivered him over to death just at that momentwas not Nemesis--no, it was a kindly deity.
Only his heart grew heavy at the thought of leaving Daphne to thetireless wooer Philotas or some other--everything else from which it isusually hard to part seemed like a burden that we gladly cast aside.
"Forward!" he called blithely and boldly to the officer; while Crates,with loud lamentations, was protesting his innocence to the warrior whowas putting fetters upon him.
A chain was just being clasped around Hermon's wrists also when hesuddenly started. His keen ear could not deceive him, and yet a demonmust be mocking him, for the voice that had called his name was thegirl's of whom, in the presence of welcome death, he had thought withlonging regret.
Yet it was no illusion that deceived him. Again he heard the belovedvoice, and this time it addressed not only him, but with the utmosthaste the commander of the soldiers.
Sometimes with touching entreaty, sometimes with imperious command, sheprotested, after giving him her name, that this matter could be nothingbut an unfortunate mistake. Lastly, with earnest warmth, she besoughthim, before taking the prisoners away, to permit her to speak to thecommanding general, Philippus, her father's guest, who, she was certain,was in the palace. The blood of these innocent men would be on his headif he did not listen to her representations.
"Daphne!" cried Hermon in grateful agitation; but she would not listento him, and followed the soldier whom the captain detailed to guide herinto the palace.
After a few moments, which the blind artist used to inspire thedespairing scholar with courage, the girl returned, and she did not comealone. The gray-haired comrade of Alexander accompanied her, and aftera few minutes both prisoners were released from their fetters. Philippushastily refused their thanks and, after addressing a few words to theofficer, he changed his tone, and his deep voice sounded paternallycordial as he exclaimed to Daphne: "Fifteen minutes more, you dear,foolhardy girl, and it would have been too late. To-morrow you shallconfess to me who treacherously directed you to this dangerous path."
Lastly, he turned to the prisoners to explain that they would beconducted to the adjacent barracks of the Diadochi, and spend the nightthere.
Early the next morning they should be examined, and, if they couldclear themselves from the suspicion of belonging to the ranks of theconspirators, released.
Daphne again pleaded for the liberation of the prisoners, but Philippussilenced her with the grave exclamation, "The order of the King!"
The old commander offered no objection to her wish to accompanyHermon to prison. Daphne now slipped her arm through her cousin's, andcommanded the steward Gras, who had brought her here, to follow them.
The goal of the nocturnal walk, which was close at hand, was reachedat the end of a few minutes, and the prisoners were delivered to thecommander of the Diadochi. This kindly disposed officer had served underHermon's father, and when the names of the prisoners were given, and theofficer reported to him that General Philippus recommended them to hiscare as innocent men, he had a special room opened for the sculptor andhis fair guide, and ordered Crates to enter another.
He could permit the beautiful daughter of the honoured Archias to remainwith Hermon for half an hour, then he must beg her to allow herself tobe escorted to her home, as the barracks were closed at that time.
As soon as the captive artist was alone with the woman he loved, heclasped her hand, pouring forth incoherent words of the most ardentgratitude, and when he felt her warmly return the pressure, he could notrestrain the desire to clasp her to his heart. For the first time hislips met hers, he confessed his love, and that he had just regardeddeath as a deliverer; but his life was now gaining new charm through heraffection.
Then Daphne herself threw her arms around his neck with ferventdevotion.
The love that resistlessly drew his heart to her was returned with equalstrength and ardour. In spite of his deep mental distress, he couldhave shouted aloud in his delight and gratitude. He might now have beenpermitted to bind forever to his life the woman who had just rescuedhim from the greatest danger, but the confession he must make to hisfellow-artists in the palaestra the following morning still sealed hislips. Yet in this hour he felt that he was united to her, and ought notto conceal what awaited him; so, obeying a strong impulse, he exclaimed:"You know that I love you! Words can not express the strength of mydevotion, but for that very reason I must do what duty commands before Iask the question, 'Will you join your fate to mine?'"
"I love you and have loved you always!" Daphne exclaimed tenderly. "Whatmore is needed?"
But Hermon, with drooping head, murmured: "To-morrow I shall no longerbe what I am now. Wait until I have done what duty enjoins; when that isaccomplished, you shall ask yourself what worth the blind artist stillpossesses who bartered spurious fame for mockery and disgrace in ordernot to become a hypocrite."
Then Daphne raised her face to his, asking, "So the Demeter is the workof Myrtilus?"
"Certainly," he answered firmly. "It is the work of Myrtilus."
"Oh, my poor, deceived love!" cried Daphne, strongly agitated, in a toneof the deepest sorrow. "What a terrible ordeal again awaits you! Itmust indeed distress me--and yet Do not misunderstand me! It seemsnevertheless as if I ought to rejoice, for you and your art have notspoken to me even a single moment from this much-lauded work."
"And therefore," he interrupted with passionate delight, "thereforealone you withheld the enthusiastic praise with which the othersintoxicated me? And I, fool, blinded also in mind, could be vexed withyou for it! But only wait, wait! Soon-to-morrow even--there will beno one in Al
exandria who can accuse me of deserting my own honestaspiration, and, if the gods will only restore my sight and the abilityto use my hands as a sculptor, then, girl, then--"
Here he was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.
The time allowed had expired.
Hermon again warmly embraced Daphne, saying: "Then go! Nothing can cloudwhat these brief moments have bestowed. I must remain blind; but youhave restored the lost sight to my poor darkened soul. To-morrow I shallstand in the palaestra before my comrades, and explain to them what amalicious accident deceived me, and with me this whole great city. Manywill not believe me, and even your father will perhaps consider it adisgrace to give his arm to his scorned, calumniated nephew to guidehim home. Bring this before your mind, and everything else that you mustaccept with it, if you consent, when the time arrives, to become mine.Conceal and palliate nothing! But should the Lady Thyone speak of theEumenides who pursued me, tell her that they had probably again extendedtheir arms toward me, but when I return to-morrow from the palaestra Ishall be freed from the terrible beings."
Lastly, he asked to be told quickly how she had happened to come to thepalace at the right time at so late an hour, and Daphne informed himas briefly and modestly as if the hazardous venture which, in strongopposition to her retiring, womanly nature, she had undertaken, was amere matter of course.
When Thyone in her presence heard from Gras that Hermon intended to goto Proclus's banquet, she started up in horror, exclaiming, "Then theunfortunate man is lost!"
Her husband, who had long trusted even the gravest secrets to hisdiscreet old wife, had informed her of the terrible office the King hadconfided to him. All the male guests of Proclus were to be executed; thewomen--the Queen at their head--would be sent into exile.
Then Daphne, on her knees, besought the matron to tell her whatthreatened Hermon, and succeeded in persuading her to speak.
The terrified girl, accompanied by Gras, went first to her lover's houseand, when she did not find him there, hastened to the King's palace.
If Hermon could have seen her with her fluttering hair, dishevelled bythe night breeze, and checks blanched by excitement and terror, if hehad been told how she struggled with Thyone, who tried to detain her andlock her up before she left her father's house, he would have perceivedwith still prouder joy, had that been possible, what he possessed in thedevoted love of this true woman.
Grateful and moved by joyous hopes, he informed Daphne of the words ofthe oracle, which had imprinted themselves upon his memory.
She, too, quickly retained them, and murmured softly:
"Noise and dazzling radiance are hostile to the purer light, Morning andday will rise quietly from the starving sand."
What could the verse mean except that the blind man would regain thepower to behold the light of clay amid the sands of the silent desert?
Perhaps it would be well for him to leave Alexandria now, and shedescribed how much benefit she had received while hunting from thesilence of the wilderness, when she had left the noise of the citybehind her. But before she had quite finished, the knocking at the doorwas repeated.
The lovers took leave of each other with one last kiss, and the finalwords of the departing girl echoed consolingly in the blind man's heart,"The more they take from you, the more closely I will cling to you."
Hermon spent the latter portion of the night rejoicing in theconsciousness of a great happiness, yet also troubled by the difficulttask which he could not escape.
When the market place was filling, gray-haired Philippus visited him.
He desired before the examination, for which every preparation had beenmade, to understand personally the relation of his dead comrade's son tothe defeated conspiracy, and he soon perceived that Hermon's presence atthe banquet was due solely to an unlucky accident or in consequence ofthe Queen's desire to win him over to her plot.
Yet he was forced to advise the blind sculptor to leave Alexandria. Thesuspicion that he had been associated with the conspirators was the moredifficult to refute, because his Uncle Archias had imprudently allowedhimself to be persuaded by Proclus and Arsinoe to lend the Queen largesums, which had undoubtedly been used to promote her abominable plans.
Philippus also informed him that he had just come from Archias, whom hehad earnestly urged to fly as quickly as possible from the persecutionwhich was inevitable; for, secure as Hermon's uncle felt in hisinnocence, the receipts for the large sums loaned by him, which had justbeen found in Proclus's possession, would bear witness against him. Envyand ill will would also have a share in this affair, and the usuallybenevolent King knew no mercy where crime against his own person wasconcerned. So Archias intended to leave the city on one of his own shipsthat very day. Daphne, of course, would accompany him.
The prisoner listened in surprise and anxiety.
His uncle driven from his secure possessions to distant lands! Daphnetaken from him, he knew not whither nor for how long a time, after hehad just been assured of her great love! He himself on the way to exposehimself to the malice and mockery of the whole city!
His heart contracted painfully, and his solicitude about his uncle'sfate increased when Philippus informed him that the conspirators hadbeen arrested at the banquet and, headed by Amyntas, the Rhodian,Chrysippus, and Proclus, had perished by the executioner's sword atsunrise.
The Queen, Althea, and the other ladies were already on the way toCoptos, in Upper Egypt, whither the King had exiled them.
Ptolemy had intrusted the execution of this severe punishment toAlexander's former comrade as the most trustworthy and discreet of hissubjects, but rejected, with angry curtness, Philippus's attempt touphold the innocence of his friend Archias.
The old man's conversation with Hermon was interrupted by thefunctionaries who subjected him and Crates to the examination. It lasteda long time, and referred to every incident in the artist's life sincehis return to Alexandria. The result was favourable, and the prisonerwas dismissed from confinement with the learned companion of his fate.
When, accompanied by Philippus, Hermon reached his house, it was solate that the artists' festival in honour of the sculptor Euphranor,who entered his seventieth year of life that day, must have alreadycommenced.
On the way the blind man told the general what a severe trial awaitedhim, and the latter approved his course and, on bidding him farewell,with sincere emotion urged Hermon to take courage.
After hastily strengthening himself with a few mouthfuls of food and adraught of wine, his slave Patran, who understood writing, wished to puton the full laurel wreath; but Hermon was seized with a painful sense ofdissatisfaction, and angrily waved it back.
Without a single green leaf on his head, he walked, leaning on theEgyptian's arm, into the palaestra, which was diagonally opposite to hishouse.
Doubtless he longed to hasten at once to Daphne, but he felt that hecould not take leave of her until he had first cast off, as his heartand mind dictated, the terrible burden which oppressed his soul.Besides, he knew that the object of his love would not part from himwithout granting him one last word.
On the way his heart throbbed almost to bursting.
Even Daphne's image, and what threatened her father, and her with him,receded far into the background. He could think only of his design, andhow he was to execute it.
Yet ought he not to have the laurel wreath put on, in order, afterremoving it, to bestow it on the genius of Myrtilus?
Yet no!
Did he still possess the right to award this noble branch to any one? Hewas appearing before his companions only to give truth its just due. Itwas repulsive to endow this explanation of an unfortunate error with acaptivating aspect by any theatrical adornment. To be honest, even forthe porter, was a simple requirement of duty, and no praiseworthy merit.
The guide forced a path for him through carriages, litters, and wholethrongs of slaves and common people, who had assembled before theneighbouring palaestra.
The doorkeepers admi
tted the blind man, who was well known here, withoutdelay; but he called to the slave: "Quick, Patran, and not among thespectators--in the centre of the arena!"
The Egyptian obeyed, and his master crossed the wide space, strewn withsand, and approached the stage which had been erected for the festalperformances.
Even had his eyes retained the power of sight, his blood was coursingso wildly through his veins that he might perhaps have been unable todistinguish the statues around him and the thousands of spectators, who,crowded closely together, richly garlanded, their cheeks glowing withenthusiasm, surrounded the arena.
"Hermon!" shouted his friend Soteles in joyful surprise in the midst ofthis painful walk. "Hermon!" resounded here, there, and everywhereas, leaning on his friend's arm, he stepped upon the stage, and theacclamations grew louder and louder as Soteles fulfilled the sculptor'srequest and led him to the front of the platform.
Obeying a sign from the director of the festival, the chorus, which hadjust sung a hymn to the Muses, was silent.
Now the sculptor began to speak, and noisy applause thundered around himas he concluded the well-chosen words of homage with which he offeredcordial congratulations to the estimable Euphranor, to whom the festivalwas given; but the shouts soon ceased, for the audience had heardhis modest entreaty to be permitted to say a few words, concerning apersonal matter, to those who were his professional colleagues, as wellas to the others who had honoured him with their interest and, only tooloudly, with undeserved applause. The more closely what he had to sayconcerned himself, the briefer he would make his story.
And, in fact, he did not long claim the attention of his hearers.Clearly and curtly he stated how it had been possible to mistakeMrytilus's work for his, how the Tennis goldsmith had dispelled hisfirst suspicion, and how vainly he had besought the priests of Demeterto be permitted to feel his statue. Then, without entering into details,he informed them that, through an accident, he had now reached the firmconviction that he had long worn wreaths which belonged to another. But,though the latter could not rise from the grave, he still owed it totruth, to whose service he had dedicated his art from the beginning,and to the simple honesty, dear alike to the peasant and the artist, todivest himself of the fame to which he was not entitled. Even while hebelieved himself to be the creator of the Demeter, he had been seriouslytroubled by the praise of so many critics, because it had exposed him tothe suspicion of having become faithless to his art and his nature. Inthe name of the dead, he thanked his dear comrades for the enthusiasticappreciation his masterpiece had found. Honour to Myrtilus and hisart, but he trusted this noble festal assemblage would pardon theunintentional deception, and aid his prayer for recovery. If it shouldbe granted he hoped to show that Hermon had not been wholly unworthy toadorn himself for a short time with the wreaths of Myrtilus.
When he closed, deep silence reigned for a brief interval, and one manlooked at another irresolutely until the hero of the day, gray-hairedEuphranor, rose and, leaning on the arm of his favourite pupil, walkedthrough the centre of the arena to the stage, mounted it, embracedHermon with paternal warmth, and made him happy by the words: "Thedeception that has fallen to your lot, my poor young friend, is alamentable one; but honour to every one who honestly means to upholdthe truth. We will beseech the immortals with prayers and sacrificesto restore sight to your artist eyes. If I am permitted, my dear youngcomrade, to see you continue to create, it will be a source of joy to meand all of us; yet the Muses, even though unasked, lead into the eternalrealm of beauty the elect who consecrates his art to truth with theright earnestness."
The embrace with which the venerable hero of the festival seemed toabsolve Hermon was greeted with loud applause; but the kind words whichEuphranor, in the weak voice of age, had addressed to the blind man hadbeen unintelligible to the large circle of guests.
When he again descended to the arena new plaudits rose; but soon hissesand other signs of disapproval blended with them, which increased instrength and number when a well known critic, who had written a learnedtreatise concerning the relation of the Demeter to Hermon's earlierworks, expressed his annoyance in a loud whistle. The dissatisfied anddisappointed spectators now vied with one another to silence those whowere cheering by a hideous uproar while the latter expressed moreand more loud the sincere esteem with which they were inspired by theconfession of the artist who, though cruelly prevented from winningfresh fame, cast aside the wreath which a dead man had, as were,proffered from his tomb.
Probably every man thought that, in the same situation, he would havedone the same yet not only justice--nay, compassion--dictated showingthe blind artist that they believed in and would sustain him. Theill-disposed insisted that Hermon had only done what duty commandedthe meanest man, and the fact that he had deceived all Alexandria stillremained. Not a few joined this party, for larger possession excite envyperhaps even more frequently than greater fame.
Soon the approving and opposing voices mingled in an actual conflict.But before the famous sculptor Chares, the great and venerable artistNicias, and several younger friends of Hermon quelled this unpleasantdisturbance of the beautiful festival, the blind man, leaning on the armof his fellow-artist Soteles, had left the palaestra.
At the exit he, parted from his friend, who had been made happy by theability to absolve his more distinguished leader from the reproach ofhaving become faithless to their common purpose, and who intended tointercede further in his behalf in the palaestra.
Hermon no longer needed him; for, besides his slave Patran, he foundthe steward Gras, who, by his master's order, guided the blind man toArchias's closed harmamaxa, which was waiting outside the building.