Then Daphne raised her face to his, asking, “So the Demeter is the work of Myrtilus?”

“Certainly,” he answered firmly.  “It is the work of Myrtilus.”

“Oh, my poor, deceived love!” cried Daphne, strongly agitated, in a tone of the deepest sorrow.  “What a terrible ordeal again awaits you!  It must indeed distress me—­and yet Do not misunderstand me!  It seems nevertheless as if I ought to rejoice, for you and your art have not spoken to me even a single moment from this much-lauded work.”

“And therefore,” he interrupted with passionate delight, “therefore alone you withheld the enthusiastic praise with which the others intoxicated me?  And I, fool, blinded also in mind, could be vexed with you for it!  But only wait, wait!  Soon-to-morrow even—­there will be no one in Alexandria who can accuse me of deserting my own honest aspiration, and, if the gods will only restore my sight and the ability to use my hands as a sculptor, then, girl, then—­”

Here he was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.

The time allowed had expired.

Hermon again warmly embraced Daphne, saying:  “Then go!  Nothing can cloud what these brief moments have bestowed.  I must remain blind; but you have restored the lost sight to my poor darkened soul.  To-morrow I shall stand in the palaestra before my comrades, and explain to them what a malicious accident deceived me, and with me this whole great city.  Many will not believe me, and even your father will perhaps consider it a disgrace to give his arm to his scorned, calumniated nephew to guide him home.  Bring this before your mind, and everything else that you must accept with it, if you consent, when the time arrives, to become mine.  Conceal and palliate nothing!  But should the Lady Thyone speak of the Eumenides who pursued me, tell her that they had probably again extended their arms toward me, but when I return to-morrow from the palaestra I shall be freed from the terrible beings.”

Lastly, he asked to be told quickly how she had happened to come to the palace at the right time at so late an hour, and Daphne informed him as briefly and modestly as if the hazardous venture which, in strong opposition to her retiring, womanly nature, she had undertaken, was a mere matter of course.

When Thyone in her presence heard from Gras that Hermon intended to go to Proclus’s banquet, she started up in horror, exclaiming, “Then the unfortunate man is lost!”

Her husband, who had long trusted even the gravest secrets to his discreet old wife, had informed her of the terrible office the King had confided to him.  All the male guests of Proclus were to be executed; the women—­the Queen at their head—­would be sent into exile.

Then Daphne, on her knees, besought the matron to tell her what threatened Hermon, and succeeded in persuading her to speak.

The terrified girl, accompanied by Gras, went first to her lover’s house and, when she did not find him there, hastened to the King’s palace.