In her right hand she held the bridle and scourge, and at her feet stood the wheel, whose turning indicates the influence exerted by her power upon the destiny of mortals.  With stern severity that boded evil, she gazed down upon her left forearm, bent at the elbow, which corresponds with the ell, the just measure.

Hermon certainly now, if ever, lacked both time and inclination to examine again this modest work of an ordinary artist, yet he quickly stopped his weary horse; for in the little pronaos directly in front of the cella door stood a slender figure clad in a long floating dark robe, extending its hands through the cella door toward the statue in fervent prayer.  She was pressing her brow against the left post of the door, but at her feet, on the right side, cowered another figure, which could scarcely be recognised as a human being.

This, too, was a woman.

Deeply absorbed in her own thoughts, she was also extending her arms toward the statue of Nemesis.

Hermon knew them both.

At first he fancied that his excited imagination was showing him a threatening illusion.  But no!

The erect figure was Ledscha, the crouching one Gula, the sailor’s wife whose child he had rescued from the flames, and who had recently been cast out by her husband.

“Ledscha!” escaped his lips in a muttered tone, and he involuntarily extended his hands toward her as she was doing toward the goddess.

But she did not seem to hear him, and the other woman also retained the same attitude, as if hewn from stone.

Then he called the supplicant’s name loud tone, and the next instant still more loudly; and now she turned, and, in the faint light of the little lamp, showed the marvellously noble outlines of her profile.  He called again, and this time Ledscha heard anguished yearning in his deep tones; but they seemed to have lost their influence over her, for her large dark eyes gazed at him so repellently and sternly that a cold tremor ran down his spine.

Swinging himself from his horse, he ascended the steps of the temple, and in the most tender tones at his command exclaimed:  “Ledscha!  Severely as I have offended you, Ledscha—­oh, do not say no!  Will you hear me?”

“No!” she answered firmly, and, before he could speak, continued:  “This place is ill chosen for another meeting!  Your presence is hateful to me!  Do not disturb me a moment longer!”

“As you command,” he began hesitatingly; but she swiftly interrupted with the question, “Do you come from Pelusium, and are you going directly home?”

“I did not heed the storm on account of Myrtilus’s illness,” he answered quietly, “and if you demand it, I will return home at once; but first let me make one more entreaty, which will be pleasing also to the gods.”

“Get your response from yonder deity! “she impatiently interrupted, pointing with a grand, queenly gesture, which at any other time would have delighted his artist eye, to the statue of Nemesis in the cella.