ere
the going to Daphne every day in the year, what a wondrous sight
Daphne must be! At last there was a clapping of hands, and a burst
of joyous cries; following the pointing of many fingers, he looked
and saw upon the brow of a hill the templed gate of the consecrated
Grove. The hymns swelled to louder strains; the music quickened
time; and, borne along by the impulsive current, and sharing the
common eagerness, he passed in, and, Romanized in taste as he was,
fell to worshiping the place.

Rearward of the structure which graced the entrance-way--a purely
Grecian pile--he stood upon a broad esplanade paved with polished
stone; around him a restless exclamatory multitude, in gayest
colors, relieved against the iridescent spray flying crystal-white
from fountains; before him, off to the southwest, dustless paths
radiated out into a garden, and beyond that into a forest, over
which rested a veil of pale-blue vapor. Ben-Hur gazed wistfully,
uncertain where to go. A woman that moment exclaimed,

"Beautiful! But where to now?"

Her companion, wearing a chaplet of bays, laughed and answered,
"Go to, thou pretty barbarian! The question implies an earthly
fear; and did we not agree to leave all such behind in Antioch
with the rusty earth? The winds which blow here are respirations
of the gods. Let us give ourselves to waftage of the winds."

"But if we should get lost?"

"O thou timid! No one was ever lost in Daphne, except those on
whom her gates close forever."

"And who are they?" she asked, still fearful.

"Such as have yielded to the charms of the place and chosen it
for life and death. Hark! Stand we here, and I will show you of
whom I speak."

Upon the marble pavement there was a scurry of sandalled feet;
the crowd opened, and a party of girls rushed about the speaker
and his fair friend, and began singing and dancing to the tabrets
they themselves touched. The woman, scared, clung to the man,
who put an arm about her, and, with kindled face, kept time to
the music with the other hand overhead. The hair of the dancers
floated free, and their limbs blushed through the robes of gauze
which scarcely draped them. Words may not be used to tell of the
voluptuousness of the dance. One brief round, and they darted off
through the yielding crowd lightly as they had come.

"Now what think you?" cried the man to the woman.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Devadasi--priestesses devoted to the Temple of Apollo. There is