. Yet the judges had condemned it in the severest manner as a work
far exceeding the bounds of moderation, and arousing positive dislike.
The clay figure had not been executed in stone or metal, and crumbled
away. The opposite would probably now happen with the Demeter. Her
bending attitude had seemed to him daring, nay, hazardous; but the acute
critic Proclus had perceived that it was in accord with one of Daphne's
habits, and therefore numbered it among the excellences of the statue.

If the judges who awarded the prize agreed with the verdict of the
grammateus, he must accustom himself to value his own work higher,
perhaps even above that of Myrtilus.

But was this possible?

He saw his friend's Demeter as though it was standing before him, and
again he recognised in it the noblest masterpiece its maker had ever
created. What praise this marvellous work would have deserved if his own
really merited such high encomiums!

Suddenly an idea came to him, which at first he rejected as
inconceivable; but it would not allow itself to be thrust aside, and its
consideration made his breath fail.

What if his own Demeter had been destroyed and Myrtilus's statue saved?
If the latter was falsely believed to be his work, then Proclus's
judgment was explained--then--then---

Seized by a torturing anguish, he groaned aloud, and the steward Gras
inquired what he wanted.

Hermon hastily grasped the Bithynian's arm, and asked what he knew about
the rescue of his statue.

The answer was by no means satisfying. Gras had only heard that, after
being found uninjured in his studio, it had been dragged with great
exertion into the open air. The goldsmith Chello had directed the work.

Hermon remembered all this himself, yet, with an imperious curtness in
marked contrast to his usual pleasant manner to this worthy servant, he
hoarsely commanded him to bring Chello to him early the next morning, and
then again relapsed into his solitary meditations.

If the terrible conjecture which had just entered his mind should be
confirmed, no course remained save to extinguish the only new light which
now illumined the darkness of his night, or to become a cheat.

Yet his resolution was instantly formed. If the goldsmith corroborated
his fear, he would publicly attribute the rescued work to the man who
created it. And he persisted in this intention, indignantly silencing the
secret voice which strove to shake it. It temptingly urged that Myrt