larium that
covered the open space from its rings, and the ladies endeavoured to
detain Hermon, Philippus silenced them with the remark:

"A disagreeable ride is before him, but what urges him on is pleasing
to the gods. I have just ventured to send out a carrier dove," he added,
turning to the artist, "to inform Myrtilus that he may expect you before
sunset. The storm comes from the cast, otherwise it would hardly reach
the goal. Put even if it should be lost, what does it matter?"

Thyone nodded to her old husband with a look of pleasure, and her eyes
shone through tears at Hermon as she clasped his hand and, remembering
her friend, his mother, exclaimed: "Go, then, you true son of your
father, and tell your friend that we will offer sacrifices for his
welfare."

"A lean chicken to Aesculapius," whispered the grammateus to Althea.
"She holds on to the oboli."

"Which, at any rate, would be hard enough to dispose of in this wretched
place unless one were a dealer in weapons or a thirsty sailor," sighed
the Thracian. "As soon as the sky and sea are blue again, chains could
not keep me here. And the cooing around this insipid rich beauty into
the bargain!"

This remark referred to Philotas, who was just offering Daphne a
magnificent bunch of roses, which a mounted messenger had brought to him
from Alexandria.

The girl received it with a grateful glance, but she instantly separated
one of the most beautiful blossoms from its companions and handed it
to Hermon, saying, "For our suffering friend, with my affectionate
remembrances."

The artist pressed her dear hand with a tender look of love, intended
to express how difficult it was for him to leave her, and when, just
at that moment, a slave announced that the horses were waiting, Thyone
whispered: "Have no anxiety, my son! Your ride away from her through the
tempest will bring you a better reward than his slave's swift horse will
bear the giver of the roses."

CHAPTER XVI.

Hermon, with the rose for his friend fastened in the breast folds of
his chiton, mounted his horse gratefully, and his companion, a sinewy,
bronzed Midianite, who was also to attend to the opening of the fortress
gates, did the same.

Before reaching the open country the sculptor had to ride through the
whole city, with which he was entirely unfamiliar. Fiercely as the storm
was sweeping down the streets and squares, and often as the horseman
was forced to hold on to his travelling