"Nay, dear father," said Cassandra, "it was the music that made me weep.
It awakened memory to the recollections of the many happy hours spent with
my dear Portia, who is now among the immortals. Four years ago we danced
together to the same strain, and the lyre was touched by the gentle
Parrhasius."

"_Gentle_ Parrhasius, sayest thou, Cassandra?--_gentle_ Parrhasius!
Wouldst thou call him gentle, the poor plebeian who sought to rival the
noble Thearchus in thy affections?--who openly avowed in the streets of
Athens, in the Gymnasium and the Hippodrome, that his pencil would yet
make Zeuxis envious?"

"And yet he _was_ gentle," mildly replied Cassandra, while the big round
tears coursed down her cheeks, and her bosom swelled with tender emotion.

The brow of Zeuxis lowered, and indices of a whirlwind of passion were in
his countenance. Four years had elapsed since Parrhasius had asked for his
daughter in marriage, and was indignantly refused. Affection, deep and
abiding as vitality itself, existed between the young painter and
Cassandra--affection based upon reciprocal appreciation of mutual worth;
but the ambition of Zeuxis made him forget his duty to his child, and,
without estimating consequences, he resolved to wed her to Thearchus, a
wealthy Athenian nobleman, and son of one of the judges of the Areopagus.

When Parrhasius modestly but firmly pressed his suit, Zeuxis became
indignant--taunted him with his plebeian birthright and obscure lineage;
and denounced him as a poor Ephesian boy, unworthy, because of his
poverty, the friendship, much less the confidence of sonship, of the great
Athenian painter.

The spirit of Parrhasius was aroused and, standing erect in all the
dignity of conscious equality of genius, full-fledged and eager to soar,
he boldly repelled the insults of Zeuxis, and with a voice that reached
the listening ear of his beloved, exclaimed:

"Know, proud man, that thou, the unrivaled master of Greece, of the world,
wilt yet envy the talent and fame of Parrhasius, though a poor plebeian
boy of Ephesus!"

The rage of Zeuxis was unbounded, and he ordered his helots to thrust the
youth from his presence. The order was instantly obeyed; and, ere the
setting sun, Parrhasius left the walls of Athens behind him, and turned
toward Ephesus, to practise his skill in seclusion there.

During the interim of the games, the young painter assiduously practised
his art, in utter seclusion from the world;