“Of course,” replied Daphne, “my father discussed his intention with me, but the thought was entirely his own.  True, Hermon’s Street-Boy eating Figs was not exactly according to his taste, but it pleased him better than his former works, and I agree with Euphranor, it is remarkably true to nature.  My father perceived this too.  Besides, he is a merchant who sets a high value upon what he has earned, and Hermon’s refusal of his gold startled him.  Then the good man also saw how nobly, in spite of his wild life, his obstinacy, and the work so unpleasing to him, his nephew always showed the noble impulses inherited from his brave father, and thus Hermon gained the day.”

“But what would have become of him last year, after the mortifying rejection of his model of The Happy Return Home for the harbour of Eunostus,” asked Myrtilus, “if you and your encouragement had not cheered him?”

“That verdict, too, was abominable!” exclaimed Daphne indignantly.  “The mother opening her arms to the returning son was unlovely, it is true, and did not please me either; but the youth with the travelling hat and staff is magnificent in his vigour and natural action.”

“That opinion, as you know, is mine also,” replied Myrtilus.  “In the mother the expression was intended to take the place of beauty.  For the returning son, as well as for the fig-eater, he found a suitable model.  True, the best was at his disposal for his Demeter.”

Here he hesitated; but Daphne so urgently asked to know what he, who had already denied her admission to the studios, was now again withholding from her, that, smiling indulgently, he added:  “Then I must probably consent to tell in advance the secret with which you were to be surprised.  Before him, as well as before me, hovered—­since you wish to know it—­in Alexandria, when we first began to model the head of the goddess, a certain charming face which is as dear to one as to the other.”

Daphne, joyously excited, held out her hand to the artist, exclaiming:  “Oh, how kind that is!  Yet how was it possible, since I posed neither to him nor to you?”

“Hermon had finished your bust only a short time before, and you permitted me to use your head for my statue of the goddess of Peace, which went down with the ship on the voyage to Ostia.  This was at the disposal of us both in three or four reproductions, and, besides, it hovered before our mental vision clearly enough.  When the time to show you our work arrives, you will be surprised to discover how differently two persons see and copy the same object.”

“Now that I know so much, and have a certain share in your works, I insist upon seeing them!” cried Daphne with far greater impetuosity than usual.  “Tell Hermon so, and remind him that I shall at any rate expect him to meet the Pelusinian guests at the banquet.  Threaten him seriously with my grave displeasure if he persists in leaving it speedily.”