Althea fixed her eyes upon the ground, and, after a short period of reflection, answered hesitatingly:  “The task which you set before me is certainly no easy one, but I shall rely upon your indulgence.”

“She will!” cried the matron to the others.

Then, clapping her hands, she continued gaily, in the tone of the director of an entertainment issuing invitations to a performance:  “Your attention is requested!  In this city of weavers the noble Thracian, Althea, will depict before you all the weaver of weavers, Arachne, in person.”

“Take heed and follow my advice to sharpen your eyes,” added Philotas, who, conscious of his inferiority in intellect and talents to the men and women assembled here, took advantage of this opportunity to assert himself in a manner suited to his aristocratic birth.  “This artistic yet hapless Arachne, if any one, teaches the lesson how the lofty Olympians punish those who venture to place themselves on the same level; so let artists beware.  We stepchildren of the Muse can lull ourselves comfortably in the assurance of not giving the jealous gods the slightest cause for the doom which overtook the pitiable weaver.”

Not a word of this declaration of the Macedonian aristocrat escaped the listening Ledscha.  Scales seemed to fall from her eves.  Hermon had won her love in order to use her for the model of his statue of Arachne, and, now that he had met Althea, who perhaps suited his purpose even better, he no longer needed the barbarian.  He had cast her aside like a tight shoe as soon as he found a more acceptable one in this female juggler.

The girl had already asked herself, with a slight thrill of horror, whether she had not prematurely called down so terrible a punishment upon her lover; now she rejoiced in her swift action.  If anything else remained for her to do, it was to make the vengeance with which she intended to requite him still more severe.

There he stood beside the woman she hated.  Could he bestow even one poor thought upon the Biamite girl and the wrong he had inflicted?

Oh, no!  His heart was filled to overflowing by the Greek—­every look revealed it.

What was the shameless creature probably whispering to him now?

Perhaps a meeting was just being granted.  The rapture which had been predicted to her for this moonlight night, and of which Hermon had robbed her, was mirrored in his features.  He could think of everything except her and her poor, crushed heart.

But Ledscha was mistaken.  Althea had asked the sculptor whether he still regretted having been detained by her before midnight, and he had confessed that his remaining at the banquet had been connected with a great sacrifice—­nay, with an offence which weighed heavily on his mind.  Yet he was grateful to the favour of the gods that had guided his decision, for Althea had it in her power to compensate him richly for what he had lost.