“I can’t imagine that monster in Elis.”

“He was a very artistic monster, you remember.”

“Like some of the decadents in London.  Why is it that those who hate moral beauty so often worship all the other beauties?”

“D’you think in their hearts they actually hate moral beauty?”

“Well, despise it, laugh at it, try to tarnish it.”

“Paganism!”

“Good heavens, no!”

And they both laughed as they went down the narrow path to the soft green valley that awaited them, hushed in the breathless morning, withdrawn among the hills, holding its memories of the athletic triumphs of past ages.  Near the Museum they stopped for a moment to look down on the valley.

“Is the Hermes in there?” Rosamund asked, glancing at the closed and deserted building.

“Yes.”

“What a strange and delicious home for him.”

“You shall visit him presently.  There are jackals in this valley.”

“I didn’t hear any last night.”

She looked again at the closed door of the Museum.

“When do they open it?”

“Probably the guardian’s in there.  That’s where he lives.”

He pointed to a small dwelling close to the museum.  Just then a tiny murmur of some far-away wind stirred the umbrella pines which stood sentinel over the valley.

“Oh, Dion, what an exquisite sound!” she said.

She held up one hand like a listening child.  There was awe in her eyes.

“This is a shrine,” she said, when the murmur failed.  “Dion, I know you planned to go first to the ruins.”

“Yes.  They’re just below us.  Look—­by the river!”

“Let me see the Hermes first, just for a moment.”

Their eyes met.  He thought she was reading his mind, though he tried to keep it closed against her just then.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.

“I feel I must see it,” she answered, with a sort of sweet obstinacy.

He hesitated.

“Well, then—­I’ll see if I can find the guardian.”

In a moment he came back with a smiling Greek who was holding a key.  As the man went to open the door, Dion said: 

“Rose, will you follow my directions?”

“When?”

“Now, when you go into the Museum.”

“But aren’t you coming too?”

“Not now.  I will when we’ve seen the ruins.  When you go into the Museum go straight through the vestibule where the Roman Emperors are.  Don’t turn to the right.  In front of you you’ll see a hall with a wooden roof and red walls.  The ‘Victory’ is there.  But don’t stay there.  Go into the small room beyond, the last room, and you mustn’t let the guardian go with you.”

From behind came the sound of the big door being opened.

“Then that is the secret, and I knew about it all the time!”

“Knew about it—­yes.”

She looked down on the green cup surrounded by hills, with its little river where now two half-naked men were dragging with a hand-net for fish.  Again the tiny breath from the far-away wind stirred in the pine trees, evoking soft sounds of Eternity.  She turned away and went into the Museum.