uth we were dear to each other.
The moon saw us nightly upon the hills, guarding our flocks, and by day
we practised the labors and the sports of Greeks."

"What is the religion of my father?" asked the child.

"I cannot tell it to you; I know only that the Christians worship one
god."

"Apollo, then, is my choice."

"Not so, child. The god of Christians is not known to us; but he shall
overthrow the idols of the whole world. The bow of Diana, the lyre of
Apollo, are already broken."

The child started. Was the temple known to Alpheus, too? Had he seen
there the fragments of a shattered harp?

The old man continued his discourse, but Evadne's thoughts had flown
away towards the lost temple.

"There alone will I worship," she murmured to herself. She dreamed of
adoring the deity of stone, but Hylas haunted all her thoughts. Yes,
Evadne! one god is sufficient for you!

Under cover of the darkness, the friendly boatman drew near, and the
islanders heard the unaccustomed sound of the boat drawn up the beach by
the youth, whose superstitious fears began to vanish as he observed that
no calamity fell upon these dwellers on the sacred spot.

"I come," he said, "with gifts truly, but also with good tidings. Have
patience yet awhile. Your retreat is still unknown, and, after a few
days, I may find you the means of escape."

Evadne alone was silent, and her tears flowed secretly.

The sun was already set, on the following day, before she stole away to
meet the hunter-boy. In his hand, as he advanced joyously to greet her,
he bore a white dove, which his arrow had pierced.

"I struck it," he said, while he pointed to its broken wing and bleeding
breast, "when it alighted on the edge of a stone fallen from the
temple."

Evadne concealed her ready tears and uttered no reproach against her
hero; but she pressed the dead bird to her bosom.

"Tell me, Hylas," she asked, "do you worship this god before us, or that
of the Christians?"

The boy laughed gayly.

"I worship this strong right arm," he said, "and my own bold will, which
has conquered and shall conquer again! The stories of the gods are but
fables. To us who are brave nothing can be forbidden; it is the weak who
are unfortunate, and no god is able either to assist or to destroy us.
As to the Christians, they are a despised people, a race of madmen, who,
pretending to love poverty and martyrdom, are followed by the rude and
ignorant. As for us, we are gods,