fear
assailed him that the rescued Demeter was the work of Myrtilus, and not
his own.

So the first question he addressed to Gras concerned the Tennis
goldsmith, and it was a keen disappointment to Hermon when he learned
that the earliest time he could expect to see him would be the following
day. The skilful artisan had been engaged for weeks upon the gold
ornaments on the new doors of the holy of holies in the Temple of Amon at
Tanis. Urgent business had called him home from the neighbouring city
just before the night of the attack; but yesterday evening he had
returned to Tanis, where his wife said he would have only two days' work
to do.

This answer, however, by no means appeased Hermon's impatience. He
commanded that a special messenger should be sent to summon the
goldsmith, and the Bithynian received the order with a slight shake of
his round head.

What new trouble had befallen the usually alert young artist that he
received this unexpected change in his situation as apathetically as a
horse which is led from one stall to another, and, instead of questioning
him, thought only of hastening his interview with the goldsmith? If his
mistress, who had left him full of anxiety from the fear that her
departure would deeply agitate the blind man, should learn how
indifferently he had received it! He, Gras, certainly would not betray
it. Eternal gods--these artists! He knew them. Their work was dearer to
their hearts than their own lives, love, or friendship.

During breakfast, of which the steward was obliged to remind him, Hermon
pondered over his fate; but how could he attain any degree of clearness
of vision until he secured accurate information concerning the statue of
Demeter? Like a dark cloud, which sweeps over the starry sky and prevents
the astronomer from seeing the planets which he desires to observe, the
fear that Proclus's praise had been bestowed upon the work of Myrtilus
stood between him and every goal of his thought.

Only the fact that he still remained blind, and not even the faintest
glimmer of light pierced the surrounding darkness, while the sun
continued its course with glowing radiance, and that, blinded and
beggared, he must despise himself if he sought to win Daphne, was
certain. No reflection could alter it.

Again the peace of mind which he thought he had regained during slumber
was destroyed. Fear of the artisan's statement even rendered it
impossible to pray to his mother with the