lasters, which
towered upward, and, as pillars, formed two of the colonnade on the
roof. A portress admitted him with a smile and led him through the
sumptuously appointed chamber of guests into the intramural park.
There she indicated a nook in an arbor of vines and left him.

With a silent foot he crossed the flowery court and entered the bower.
The beautiful dweller sat in a deep chair, her little feet on a carved
footstool, a silver-stringed lyre tumbled beside it. She was alone and
appeared desolate. When the tall figure of the sculptor cast a shadow
upon her she looked up with a little cry of delight.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "a god led thee hither to save me from the
solitude. It is a moody monster not catalogued in the list of
terrors." She thrust the lyre aside with her sandal and pushed the
footstool, only a little, away from her.

"Sit there," she commanded. Kenkenes obeyed willingly. He drew off
his coif and tossed it aside.

"Thou seest I am come in the garb of labor," he confessed.

"I see," she answered severely. "Am I no longer worthy the robe of
festivity?"

"Ah, Ta-meri, thou dost wrong me," he said. "Chide me, but impugn me
not. Nay, I am on my way to Tape. I was summoned hurriedly and am
already dismissed upon mine errand, but I could not use myself so ill
as to postpone my visit for eighteen days."

She jeered at him prettily.

"To hear thee one would think thou hadst been coming as often as
Nechutes."

"How often does Nechutes come?"

"Every day."

"Of late?" he asked, with a laugh in his eyes.

"Nay," she answered sulkily. "Not since the day--that day!"

Kenkenes was silent for a moment. Then he put his elbow on the arm of
her chair and leaned his head against his hand. The attitude brought
him close to her.

"All these days," he said at length, "he has been unhappy among the
happy and the unhappiest among the sad. He has summoned the shuddering
Pantheon, to hear him vow eternal unfealty to thee, Ta-meri--and lo!
while they listened he begged their most potent charm to hold thee to
him still. Poor Nechutes!"

"Thou dost treat it lightly," she reproached him, her eyes veiled, "but
it is of serious import to--to Nechutes."

"Nay, I shall hold my tongue. I efface myself and intercede for him,
and thou dost call it exulting. And when I am fallen from thy favor
there will be none to plead my cause, none to hide her misty eyes with
contrite lashes."

"Mine eyes are