“Hermon!” the matron now exclaimed reproachfully; but he repeated with strong emphasis:  “Yes, it would be baseness so great that even her most ardent love could not save me from the reproach of having committed it.  I will not speak of her father, to whom I am so greatly indebted.  It may be that it might satisfy Daphne, full of kindness as she is, to devote herself, body and soul, to the service of her helpless companion.  But I?  Far from thinking constantly, like her, solely of others and their welfare, I should only too often, selfish as I now am, be mindful of myself.  But when I realize who I am, I see before me a blind man who is poorer than a beggar, because the scorching flames melted even the gold which was to help him pay his debts.”

“Folly!” cried the matron.  “For what did Archias gather his boundless treasures?  And when his daughter is once yours—­”

“Then,” Hermon went on bitterly, “the blinded artist’s poverty will be over.  That is your opinion, and the majority of people will share it.  But I have my peculiarities, and the thought of being rescued from hunger and thirst by the woman I love, and who ought to see in me the man from whom she receives the best gifts—­to be dependent on her as the recipient of her alms—­seems to me worse than if I were once more to lose my sight.  I could not endure it at all!  Every mouthful would choke me.  Just because she is so dear to me, I can not seek her hand; for, in return for her great self-sacrificing love, I could give her nothing save the keen discontent which seizes the proud soul that is forced constantly to accept benefits, as surely as the ringing sound follows the blow upon the brass.  My whole future life would become a chain of humiliations, and do you know whither this unfortunate marriage would lead?  My teacher Straton once said that a man learns to hate no one more easily than the person from whom he receives benefits which it is out of his power to repay.  That is wise, and before I will see my great love for Daphne transformed to hate, I will again try the starving which, while I was a sculptor at Rhodes, I learned tolerably well.”

“But would not a great love,” asked Thyone, “suffice to repay tenfold the perishable gifts that can be bought with gold and silver?”

“No, and again no!” Hermon answered in an agitated tone.  “Something else would blend with the love I brought to the marriage, something that must destroy all the compensation it might offer; for I see myself becoming a resentful misanthrope if I am compelled to relinquish the pleasure of creating and, condemned to dull inaction, can do nothing except allow myself to be tended, drink, eat, and sleep.  The gloomy mood of her unfortunate husband would sadden Daphne’s existence even more than my own; for, Thyone, though I should strive with all my strength to bear patiently, with her dear aid, the burden imposed upon me, and move on through the darkness with joyous courage, like many another blind man, I could not succeed.”