“But in that contest he won the Countess’s pearl,” said the maid of honor, her chin in her hands; “I knew (dear lady!) what, being woman, was her inmost thought, and in my heart I did applaud her choice.”

The man bent his eyes upon her for a moment, then went on with his story, but somewhat slowly.

“When it had thus ended the day, that goodly company betook itself to rest.  But Cleon tossed upon his bed, and at the dawn, when the birds began to sing, he arose, dressed himself, and went forth into the dewy gardens of that lovely place.  Here he walked up and down, for his unrest would not leave him, and his heart hungered for food it had never tasted....  There was a fountain springing from a stone basin, and all around were set rose-bushes, seen dimly because of the mist.  Presently, when the light was stronger, issued from the house one of those nymphs whom Astrophel’s sister delighted to gather around her, and coming to the fountain, began to search about its rim for a jewel that had been lost.  She moved like a mist wreath in that misty place, but Cleon saw that her eyes were dark, and her lips a scarlet flower, and that grace was in all her motions.  He remembered her name, and that she was loved of Astrophel’s sister, and how sweet a lady she was called.  Now he watched her weaving paces in the mist, and his fancy worked....  The mist lifted, and a sudden sunshine lit her into splendor; face, form, spirit, all, all her being into fadeless splendor—­into fadeless splendor, Dione!”

The maid of honor left once more her grassy throne, and turning from him, moved a step away, then with raised arms clasped her hands behind her head.  Her upturned face was hidden from him, but he saw her white bosom rise and fall.  He had made pause, but now he continued his story, though with a changed voice.

“And Cleon, going to her with due greeting, knelt:  she thought (sweet soul!) to aid her in her search, but indeed he knelt to her, for now he knew that the gods had given him this also—­to love a woman.  But because the blind boy’s shaft, designed to work inward ever deeper and deeper until it reached the heart’s core, did now but ensanguine itself, he made no cry nor any sign of that sweet hurt.  He found and gave the nymph the jewel she had lost, and broke for her the red, red roses, and while the birds did carol he led her through the morning to the entrance of the house.  Up the stone stairs went she, and turned in splendor at the top.  A red rose fell ... the sunlight passed into the house.”

The voice of the speaker altered, came nearer the ear of her who stood with heaving bosom, with upturned face, with hands locked tight upon the wonder of this hour.