fore had touched and opened
her weary and loveless soul; and this sore feeling had not diminished,
but had rather increased with time. At every hour of the day, and
whatever she was occupied in, she could not help repeating to herself,
that she had every reason to be vexed with him.

She had stood to him a second time as a model for his work, had spoken
to him many times, and when last they parted had promised to allow him
this very evening to study once more the folds of her mantle. With what
pleasure she had looked forward to each meeting with Pollux, how truly
lovable she had thought him on every fresh occasion; how frankly he
too, expressed his pleasure as often as they met! They had talked of all
sorts of things, even of love, and how eager he had been when he told
her that the only thing she needed to make her happy was a good husband
who would succor and comfort her as she deserved, and as he spoke he had
looked at his own strong hands while she had turned red, and had thought
to herself that if he liked it she would willingly make the experiment
of enjoying life heartily by his side.

It seemed to her as though they belonged to each other, as if she had
been born for him alone, and he for her. Why then yesterday had he shown
Arsinoe her mother's bust before her?

Well, now she would ask him plainly whether he had placed it on the
rotunda for her or for her sister, and let him see she was not pleased.
She must tell him, too, that she could not stand as his model that
evening; if only on account of her foot that would be impossible.

With increasing pain and effort she crossed the threshold of the hall
of the Muses, and went up to the screen behind which her friend was
concealed. He was not alone, for she heard voices within--and it was not
a man but a woman who was with him; she could hear her clear laugh at
some distance. When she came close up to the screen to call Pollux, the
woman, who was certainly sitting to him as a model, spoke louder than
before, and called out merrily:

"But this is delicious! I am to let you fulfil the office of my maid,
what audacity these artists have!"

"Say yes," begged the artist, in the gay and cordial tone which more
than once had helped to ensnare Selene's heart. "You are beautiful,
Balbilla, but if you would allow me, you might be far handsomer than you
are even."

And again there was a merry laugh behind the screen. The pleasant voice
must have hurt poor Selene acutel