“It was magnificent!  Then, in a manner as respectful as if welcoming an illustrious guest, he invited me to take my place opposite to him, that he might form a goddess after my model.  This was the highest flattery of all, and I willingly assumed the position he directed, but he looked at me from every side, with sparkling eyes, and asked me to let down my hair and remove the veil from the back of my head.  Then—­need I assure you of it?—­my blood boiled with righteous indignation; but instead of being ashamed of the outrage, he raised his hand to my head and pulled the veil.  Resentment and wrath suddenly flamed in my soul, and before he could detain me I had left the room.  In spite of his representations and entreaties, I did not enter it again.”

“Yet,” asked the sorceress in perplexity, “you once more obeyed his summons?”

“Yesterday also I could not help it,” Ledscha answered softly.

“Fool!” cried Tabus indignantly, but the girl exclaimed, in a tone of sincere shame:  “You do well to call me that.  Perhaps I deserve still harsher names, for, in spite of the sternness with which I forbade him ever to remind me of the studio by even a single word, I soon listened to him willingly when he besought me, if I really loved him, not to refuse what would make him happy.  If I allowed him to model my figure, his renown and greatness would be secured.  And how clearly he made me understand this!  I could not help believing it, and at last promised that, in spite of my father and the women of Tennis, I would grant all, all, and accompany him again to the work room if he would have patience until the night of the next day but one, when the moon would be at the full.”

“And he?” asked Tabus anxiously.

“He called the brief hours which I required him to wait an eternity,” replied the girl, “and they seemed no less long to me—­but neither entreaties nor urgency availed; what you predicted for me from the cords last year strengthened my courage.  I should wantonly throw away—­I constantly reminded myself—­whatever great good fortune Fate destined for me if I yielded to my longing and took prematurely what was already so close at hand; for—­do you remember?—­at that time it was promised that on a night when the moon was at the full a new period of the utmost happiness would begin for me.  And now—­unless everything deceives me—­now it awaits me.  Whether it will come with the full moon of to-morrow night, or the next, or the following one, your spirits alone can know; but yesterday was surely too soon to expect the new happiness.”

“And he?” asked the old dame.

“He certainly did not make it easy for me,” was the reply, “but as I remained firm, he was obliged to yield.  I granted only his earnest desire to see me again this evening.  I fancy I can still hear him exclaim, with loving impetuosity, that he hated every day and every night which kept him from me.  And now?  Now?  For another’s sake he lets me wait for him in vain, and if his slave does not lie, this is only the beginning of his infamous, treacherous game.”