ure to have become even more
slender and incorporeal, and how strangely her thin fingers spread apart!
How stiffly the strands of the parted, wholly uncurled locks stood out in
the air!

Did it not seem as if they were to help her move?

The black shadow which Althea's figure and limbs cast upon the surface of
the brightly lighted pedestal-no, it was no deception, it not only
resembled the spinner among insects, it presented the exact picture of a
spider.

The Greek's slender body had contracted, her delicate arms and narrow
braids of hair changed into spider legs, and the many-jointed hands were
already grasping for their prey like a spider, or preparing to wind the
murderous threads around another living creature.

"Arachne, the spider!" fell almost inaudibly from her quivering lips,
and, overpowered by torturing fear, she was already turning away from the
frightful image, when the storm of applause which burst from the
Alexandrian guests soothed her excited imagination.

Instead of the spider, a slender, lank woman, with long, outstretched
bare arms, and fingers spread wide apart, fluttering hair, and wandering
eyes again stood before Ledscha.

But no peace was yet granted to her throbbing heart, for while Althea,
with perspiring brow and quivering lips, descended from the pedestal, and
was received with loud demonstrations of astonishment and delight, the
glare of a flash of lightning burst through the clouds, and a loud peal
of thunder shook the night air and reverberated a long time over the
water.

At the same instant a loud cry rang from beneath the canopy.

Thyone, the wife of Alexander the Great's comrade, though absolutely
fearless in the presence of human foes, dreaded the thunder by which Zeus
announced his anger. Seized with sudden terror, she commanded a slave to
obtain a black lamb for a sacrifice, and earnestly entreated her husband
and her other companions to go on board the ship with her and seek
shelter in its safe, rain-proof cabin, for already heavy drops were
beginning to fall upon the tensely drawn awning.

"Nemesis!" exclaimed the grammateus.

"Nemesis!" whispered young Philotas to Daphne in a confidential murmur,
throwing his own costly purple cloak around her to shield her from the
rain. "Nowhere that we mortals overstep the bounds allotted to us do we
await her in vain."

Then bending down to her again, he added, by way of explanation: "The
winged daughter of Night would prove h