 Book 1, Chapter 16 of Arachne. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Anne Boulais. Arachne by George Ebers. Book 1, Chapter 16. Herman, with a rose for his friend, fastened in the breast-bolts of his chitin, mounted his horse gratefully and his companion, a sinewy bronze minianite, who was also to attend to the opening of the fortress gate, did the same. Before reaching the open country, the sculptor had to ride through the whole city, with which he was entirely unfamiliar. Fiercely as the storm was sweeping down the streets and squares, and often as the horseman was forced to hold on to his traveling hat and draw his clamors closer around him, he felt the anxieties which had made his night sleepless and saddened his day suddenly leave him as if by a miracle. Was it the consciousness of having acted rightly? Was it the friendly farewell which Daphne had given him and the hope Thione had aroused, or the expectation of seeing Leska once more, and at least regaining her goodwill that had restored his lost lightheartedness? He did not know himself, nor did he desire to know. While formerly he had merely glanced carelessly about him in Pelusium, and only half listened to the explanations given by the veteran's deep voice, now whatever he saw appeared in clear outlines and awakened his interest, in spite of the annoyances caused by the storm. Had he not known that he was in Pelusium, it would have been difficult for him to determine whether the city he was crossing was in Egyptian, a Hellenic, or a Syrian one. For here rose an ancient temple in the time of the pharaohs, with obelisks and colossal statues before the lofty pylons, yonder the sanctuary of Poseidon surrounded by stately rows of Doric columns. And further on, the smaller temple dedicated to the Dioscury and the circular-gratian building that belonged to Aphrodite. In another spot, still close to the harbor, he saw the large buildings consecrated to the worship of the Syrian Ba'al and Astarte. Here he was obliged to wait a while, for the tempest had excited the war elephants, which were returning from their exercising ground, and their black keepers only succeeding with the utmost difficulty in restraining them. Shrieking with fear, the few persons who were in the streets besides the soldiers that were everywhere present scattered before the huge terrified animals. The costume and appearance of the citizens, too, gave no clue to the country to which the place belonged. There were as many Egyptians among them as Greeks, Syrians, and Negroes. Asiatics appeared in the majority, only in the marketplace, where the dealers were just leaving their stands to secure their goods from the storm. In front of the big building, where the famous Pelusian xythus beer was brewed, the drink was being carried away in jugs and wineskins, in ox carts and on donkeys. Here, too, were men loading camels, which were rarely seen in Egypt, and had been introduced there only a short time before. How forcibly all these things riveted Herman's attention, now that no one was at hand to explain them, and no delay was permitted. He scarcely had time for recollection and expectation. Finally, the last gate was unlocked, and the ramparts and moats lay behind him. Thus far the wind had kept back the rain, and only scattered drops lashed the riders' faces. But as soon as they entered the open country, it seemed as if the pent-up floods burst the barriers, which retained them above. And a torrent of water, such as only those dry regions know rushed, not in straight or slanting lines, but in thick streams, whirled by the hurricane, upon the marshy land, which stretched from Pelusium to Tennis and on the horsemen. The road let along a dyke raised above the fields, which, at this season of the year, were under water, and Herman's companion knew it well. For a time, both riders allowed themselves to be drenched in silence. The water ran down upon them from their broad-brimmed hats, and their dripping horses trotted with drooping heads and streaming flanks, one behind the other until. At the very brick kiln, where Lettska had recalled her widowed sister's unruly slaves to obedience, the guide stopped with an oath and pointed to the water that had risen to the top of the dam, and in some places concealed the road from their eyes. Now it was no longer possible to trot, for the guide was obliged to seek the traces of the dyke with great caution. Meanwhile, the force of the pouring rain by no means lessened. Nay, it even seemed to increase, and the horses were already wading in water up to their fetlocks. But if the votive stones, the little altars and statues of the gods, the bushes and single trees along the sides of the dyke road were overflowed while the travelers were in the region of the marsh. They would be obliged to interrupt their journey, for the danger of sinking into the morass with their horses would then threaten them. Even at the brick kiln, travelers, soldiers, and trains of merchandise had stopped to wait for the end of the cloud burst. In front of the farmhouse, too, which Herman and his companion necks reached, they saw dozens of people seeking shelter, and the Midianite urged his master to join them for their short time at least. The wisest course here was probably to yield, and Herman was already turning his horse's head toward the house, when a Greek messenger dashed past the beckoning refuge and also by him. Do you dare ride farther? The artist shouted in a tone of warning inquiry to the man on the dripping bay, and the latter, without pausing, answered, duty on business for the king. Then Herman turned his steed back toward the road, beat the water from his soaked beard with the edge of his hand, and with a curt forward, announced his decision to his companion. Duty summoned him also, and what another risk for the king he would not fail to do for a friend. The Midianite, shaking his head, rode angrily after him. But though the violence of the rain was lessening, the wind began to blow with redoubled force, beating and lashing the boundless expanse of the quickly formed lake with such savage fury that it rolled in surges like the sea, and sweeping over it dense clouds of foam like the sand waves tossed by the desert tempests. Sometimes moaning, sometimes whistling, the gusts of the hurricane drove the water and the travelers before it, while the rain poured from the sky to the earth, and wherever it struck, splashed upward, making little whirlpools and swiftly breaking bubbles. What might not Mertilla suffer in this storm? This thought strengthened Herman's courage to twice ride past other farmhouses which offered shelter. At the third, the horse refused to wade farther in such a tempest, so there was nothing to be done except spring off and lead it to the higher ground which the water had not yet reached. The interior of the peasant hut was filled with people who had sought shelter there, and the stifling atmosphere which the artist felt at the door induced him to remain outside. He had stood there dripping barely 15 minutes when loud shouts and yells were heard on the road from Pelusium, by which he had come, and upon the flooded dyke appeared a body of men rushing forward with marvelous speed. The nearer they came, the fiercer and more bewildering sounded the loud shrill melody of their frantic cries mingled with horse laughter, and the spectacle presented to the eyes was no less rough and bold. The majority seemed to be powerful men. Their complexions were as light as the Macedonians. Their fair red and brown locks were thick, unkempt and bristling. Most of the reckless defiant bold faces were smooth shaven with only a mustache on the upper lip and sometimes a short imperial. All carried weapons, and a fleece covered the shoulders of many while chains, ornamented with the teeth of animals, hung on their white muscular chests. Galatians, Herman heard one man near him call to another, they came to the fortress as auxiliary troops. Philippus forbade them to plunder on pain of death and showed them, the gods be thanked, that he was in earnest. Otherwise it would soon look here as though the plagues of locusts, flood and fire, had visited us at once. Red-haired men are not the only sons of Typhon. And Herman thought that he had indeed never seen any human beings equally fierce, bold to the verge of reckless madness as these Gaelic warriors. The tempest which swept them forward and the water through which they waited only seemed to increase their enjoyment for sheer delight rang in their exulting shouts and yells. Oh yes, to march amid this uproar of the elements was a pleasure to the healthy men. It afforded them the rarest, most enlivening delight. For a long time nothing had so strongly reminded them of the roaring of the wind and the rushing of the rain in their northern home. It seemed a delicious relief after the heat and dryness of the south which they had endured with groans. When they perceived the eyes fixed upon them they swung their weapons, arched their breast with conscious vanity, distorted their faces into terrible threatening grimaces or raised bugle horns to their lips, drew from them shrill ear piercing notes and gloated with childish delight in the terror of the gaping crowd on whom the restraint of authority sternly forbade them to show their metal. Lust for rapine and greed for booty glittered in many a fiery longing look but their leaders kept them in check with the sword. So they rushed on without stopping like a thunderstorm pregnant with destruction which the wind drives over a terrified village. Herman also had to take the road they followed and after giving the galls a long start he set out again. But though he succeeded in passing the Marchi region without injury there had been delay after delay. Here the horses had left the flooded dyke road and floundered up to their knees in the morass. There trees from the roadside uprooted by the storm barred the way. As night closed in the rain ceased and the wind began to subside but dark clouds covered the sky and the horsemen were still in hours ride from the place where the road ended at the little harbor from which travelers entered the boat which conveyed them to tennis. The way no longer led through the marsh but through tilled lands and crossed the ditches which irrigated the fields on wooden bridges. On their account in the dense darkness which prevailed caution was necessary and this the guide certainly did not lack. He rode at a slow walk in front of the artist and had just pointed out to him the light at the landing place of the boat which went to tennis. When Herman was suddenly startled by a loud cry followed by clattering and splashing. With swift presence of mine he sprang from his horse and found his conjecture verified the bridge was broken down and horse and rider had fallen into the broad canal. The Galatians reached Herman from the dark depths and the exclamation relieved him concerning the fate of the Midianite. The latter soon struggled to the road uninjured. The bridge must have given way under the feet of the savage horde unless the Gaelic monsters with brute malice had intentionally shattered it. The first supposition however seemed to be the correct one for as Herman approached the canal he heard moans of pain. One of the Gauls had apparently met with an accident in the fall of the bridge and been deserted by his comrades. With the skill acquired in the wrestling school Herman descended into the canal to look for the wounded man while his guide undertook to get the horses ashore. Deep darkness considerably increased the difficulty of carrying out his purpose but the young Greek went up to his neck in the water he could not become wetter than he was already. So he remained in the ditch until he found the injured man whose groans of suffering pierced his compassionate heart. He was obliged to release the luckless Gaul from the broken timbers of the bridge and when Herman had dragged him out on the opposite bank of the canal he made no answer to any question. A falling beam had probably struck him senseless. His hair, which Herman's groping fingers informed him was thick and rough, seemed to denote a Gaul but a full long beard was very rarely seen in this nation and the wounded man wore one nor could anything be discovered from the ornaments or weapons of this fierce barbarian but to whatever people he might belong he certainly was not a Greek. The thoroughly unhellenic wrapping up of the legs proved that. No matter, Herman at any rate was dealing with someone who was severely injured and the self-sacrificing pity with which even suffering animals inspired him and which in his boyhood had drawn upon him the jeers of the companions of his own age did not abandon him now. Reluctantly obeying his command the Midianite helped him bandage the sufferer's head in which a wound could be felt as well as it could be done in the darkness and lift him on the artist's horse. During this time, fresh grounds issued from the bearded lips of the injured warrior and Herman walked by his side guarding the senseless man from the dangers of falling from the back of the horse as it slowly followed the Midianites. This tiresome walk, however, did not last long. The landing place was reached sooner than Herman expected and the ferry boat bore the travelers and the horses to tennis. By the flickering light of the captain's lantern it was ascertained that the wounded man in spite of his long dark beard was probably a gall. The stupor was to be attributed to the fall of a beam on his head and the shock rather than to the wound. The great loss of blood sustained by the young and powerful soldier had probably caused the duration of the swoon. During the attempts at resuscitation a sailor boy offered his assistance. He carefully held the lantern and as its flickering light fell for brief moments upon the artist's face, the lad of 13 or 14 asked if he was Herman of Alexandria. A curt, if you will permit, answered the question considered by the Hellenes as an unseemly one especially from such a youth. But the sculptor paid no further attention to him. For while devoting himself honestly to the wounded man his anxiety about his invalid friend increased and Leska's image also rose again before him. At last the ferry boat touched the land and when Herman looked around for the lad he had already leaped ashore and was just vanishing in the darkness. It was probably within an hour of midnight. The gale was still blowing fiercely over the water driving the black clouds across the dark sky sometimes with long drawn wailing sounds sometimes with sharp whistling ones. The rain had wholly ceased and seemed to have exhausted itself here in the afternoon. As Arceus's White House was a considerable distance from the landing place of the ferry boat Herman had the wounded warrior carried to it by Beomite sailors and again mounted his horse to ride to Myrtilus at as swift a trot as the soaked wretched but familiar road would permit. Considerable time had been spent in obtaining a litter for the gale yet Herman was surprised to meet the lad who had questioned him so boldly on the ferry boat coming not from the landing place but running toward it again from the city and then saw him follow the shore carrying a blazing torch which he waved saucily. The wind blew aside the flame and smoke which came from the burning pitch but it shone brightly through the gloom and permitted the boy to be distinctly seen. Whence had the nimble fellow come so quickly? How had he succeeded in this fierce gale in kindling the torch so soon into a powerful flame? Was it not foolish to let a child amuse itself in the middle of the night with so dangerous a toy? Herman hastily thought over these questions but the supposition that the light of the torch might be intended for a signal did not occur to him. Besides the boy and the light in his hand occupied his mind only a short time. He had better things to think of with what longing Mertillus must now be expecting his arrival but the gale needed his aid no less urgently than his friend. Accurately as he knew what remedies relieved Mertillus in severe attacks of illness he could scarcely dispense with an assistant or a leech for the other and the idea swiftly flashed upon him that the wounded man would afford him an opportunity of seeing Ledska again. She had told him more than once about the healing art possessed by Old Tabas on the owl's nest. Suppose he should now seek the angry girl to entreat her to speak to the aged miracle worker in behalf of the sorely wounded young foreigner? Here he interrupted himself. Something new claimed his attention. A dim light glimmered through the intense darkness from a bit of rising ground by the wayside. It came from the temple of Nemesis, a pretty little structure belonging to the time of Alexander the Great which he had often examined with pleasure. Several steps led to the anti-room supported by Ionic columns which adjoined the Naos. Two lamps were burning at the side of the door leading into the little open cellar and at the back of the consecrated place the statue of the winged goddess was visible in the light of a small altar fire. 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 voted evil she gazed down upon her left forearm bent at the elbow which corresponds with the L the just measure. Herman certainly now if ever laughed 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 Proneos directly in front of the cellar door stood a slender figure clad in a long floating dark robe extending his hands through the cellar 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 recognized 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. Herman knew them both. At first he fancied that his excited imagination was showing him a threatening illusion but no. The erect figure was Letzka the crouching wangula the sailor's wife whose child he had rescued from the flames and who had recently been cast out by her husband. Letzka escaped his lips in a muttered tone and he involuntarily extended his hands towards 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 in a loud tone and the next instant still more loudly and then she turned and in the faint light of the little lamp showed the marvelously noble outlines of her profile. He called again and this time Letzka 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, Letzka, severely as I have offended you, Letzka. Oh, don't 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 Murtilus's illness, he answered quietly and if you demanded I will return home at once but first let me make one more entreaty which will be pleasing also to the gods. Yet your response from yonder deity, she impatiently interrupted pointing with a grand queenly gesture which at any other time would have delighted his artist's eye to the statue of Nemesis in the cella. Meanwhile, Gula had also turned her face toward Herman and he now addressed her saying with a faint tone of reproach and did hatred lead you also Gula to this sanctuary at midnight to implore the goddess to destroy me and her wrath? The young mother rose and pointed to Letzka exclaiming, she desires it and I, he asked gently have I really done so much evil? She raised her hand to her brow as if bewildered her glance fell on the artist's troubled face and lingered there for a short time then her eyes wandered to Letzka and from her to the goddess and finally back again to the sculptor. Meanwhile, Herman saw how her young figure was trembling and before he had time to address the soothing word to her she sobbed aloud, crying to Letzka you are not a mother, my child he rescued it from the flames I will not and I cannot I will no longer pray for his misfortune. She drew her veil over her pretty tear-stained face as she spoke and darted lightly down the temple steps close beside him to seek shelter in her parents house which had been unwillingly open to the cast-off wife but now afforded her a home rich in affection. Immeasurably bitter scorn was depicted in Letzka's features as she gazed after Gula she did not appear to notice Herman when at last he appealed to her and briefly urged her to ask the old enchantress on the owl's nest for a remedy for the wounded gall she again leaned against the post of the cello door extended both arms with passionate fervor toward the goddess and remained standing there motionless deaf to his petition. His blood seethed in his veins and he was tempted to go nearer and force her to hear him but before he had ascended the first of the flight of steps leading to the Proneos he heard the footsteps of the men who were bearing the wounded warrior after him. They must not see him here with one of their own country women at this hour and manly pride forbade him to address her again as a supplicant. So he went back to the road, mounted his horse and rode on without vouchsafing a word of farewell to the woman who was invoking destruction upon his head. As he did so his eyes again rested on the stern face of nemesis and the wheels whose turning determined the destiny of men at her feet. A sail by horrible fears and overpowered by pre-sentiments of evil he pursued his way through the darkness. Perhaps Murtillas had succumbed to the terrible attack which must have visited him in such a storm and life without his friend would be bereft of half its charm orphaned, poor, a struggler who had gained no complete victory had been rich only in disappointments to him in spite of his conviction that he was a genuine artist and was fighting for a good cause. Now he knew that he had also lost the woman by whose assistance he was certain of a great success in his own much disputed course and let's go if anyone was right in expecting a favorable hearing from the goddess who punished injustice. He did not think of Daphne again until he was approaching the place where her tents had stood and the remembrance of her fell like a ray of light into his darkened soul. Yet on that spot had also been erected the wooden platform from which Althea had shown him the transformation into the spider and the recollection of the foolish error into which the Thracian had drawn him disagreeably clouded the pleasant thought of Daphne. End of chapter 16. Book one, chapter 17 of Arachne. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Anne Boulet. Arachne by George Ebers. Book one, chapter 17. Complete darkness enfolded the White House. Hermann saw only two windows lighted, the one in his friend's studio, which looked out into the open square while his own faced the water. What did this mean? It must be nearly midnight and he could no longer expect Mertillas to be still at work. He had supposed that he should find him in his chamber, supported by his slaves, struggling for breath. What was the meaning of the light in the work rooms now? Where was his usually efficient bios? He never went to rest when his master was to return home, yet the carrier dove must have announced his coming. But Hermann had also enjoined the care of Mertillas upon the slave and he was undoubtedly beside the sufferer's couch, supporting him in the same way that he had often seen his master. He was now riding across the open space and he heard the men who carried the gall talking close behind him. Was the wounded barbarian the sole acquisition of this journey? The beat of his horse's hooves and the voices of the Beomites echoed distinctly enough amid the stillness of the night which was interrupted only by the roaring of the wind. And this disturbance of the deep silence around had entered the lighted windows before him for a figure appeared at one of them and could he believe his own eyes? Mertillas looked down into the square and a joyous welcome rang from his lips as loudly as in his days of health. The darkness of night suddenly seemed to Hermann to be illumined. A leap at the ground, two bounds up the steps leading to the house and eager rush through the corridor that separated him from the room in which Mertillas was, the bursting instead of opening the door and, as if frantic with happy surprise, he impestuously embraced his friend who, burren and foul in hand, was approaching the threshold and kissed his brow and cheeks in the pure joy of his heart. Then what questions, answers and tidings? In spite of the torrents of rain and the gale, the invulet's health had been excellent. The solitude had done him good. He knew nothing about the carrier dove. The hurricane had probably blown it away as the breeders of the swift messengers said. Question and reply now followed one another in rapid succession and both were soon acquainted with everything worth knowing. Nay, Hermann had even delivered Daphne's rose to his friend and informed him what had befallen the gale who was being brought into the house. Bios and the other slaves had quickly appeared and Hermann soon rendered the wounded man the help he needed in an airy chamber in the second story of the house, which, owing to the heat that prevailed in summer so close under the roof, the slaves had never occupied. Bios assisted his master with equal readiness and skill and, at last, the gale opened his eyes and, in the language of his country, asked a few brief questions which were incomprehensible to the others. Then, groaning, he again closed his eyes. Hitherto, Hermann had not even allowed himself time to look around his friend's studio and examine what he had created during his absence. But, perceiving that his kind act had not been in vain and consuming with a vigorous appetite the food and wine which Bios set before him. He obliged Mertillus, for another day was coming, to go to rest that the storm might not still prove hurtful to him. Yet he held his friend's hand in a firm clasp for a long time and, when the latter at last prepared to go, he pressed it so closely that it actually hurt Mertillus, but he understood his meaning and, with a loving glance that sank deep into Hermann's heart, called a last good night. After two sleepless nights and the fatiguing ride which he had just taken, the sculptor felt weary enough. But when he laid his hands on the gall's brow and breast and felt their burning heat, he refused by us his voluntary offer to watch the sufferer in his place. If to amuse or forget himself, he had corrals far more nights in succession and Alexandria. Why should he not keep awake when the object in question was to rest a young life from the grasp of death? This man in his life were now his highest goal and he had never yet repented his foolish eccentricity of imposing discomforts upon himself to help the suffering. By us, on his part, was very willing to go to rest. He had plenty of cause for weariness. Mertillus' unscrupulous body servant had stolen off with the other slaves the night before and did not return with staggering gait until the next morning. But in order to keep his promise to his master, he has scarcely closed his eyes that he might be at hand if Mertillus should need any assistance. So by us fell asleep quickly enough in his little room in the lower story while his master, by the exertion of all his strength of will, watched beside the couch of the gall. Yet after the first quarter of an hour, his head, no matter how he struggled to prevent it, drooped again and again upon his breast. But just as slumber was completely overpowering him, his patient made him start up, for he had left his bed and when Herman, fully roused, looked for him, was standing in the middle of the room, gazing about him. The artist thought that fever had driven the wounded warrior from his couch as it formerly did his fellow pupil Lycon whom in the delirium of Typhus, he could keep in bed only by force. So he led the gall carefully back to the couch he had deserted and after moistening the bandage with healing balm from Mertillus' medicine chest, ordered him to keep quiet. The barbarian yielded as obediently as a child, but at first remained in a sitting posture and asked in scarcely intelligible broken Greek how he came to this place. After Herman had satisfied his curiosity, he also put a few questions and learned that his charge not only wore a mustache, like his fellow countrymen, but also a full beard because the latter was the badge of the bridge builders to which class he belonged. While examining the one crossing the canal, it had fallen in upon him. He closed his eyes as he spoke and Herman wondered if it was not time for him to lie down also, but the wounded man's brow was still burning and the Gaelic words which he constantly muttered were probably about the phantoms of fever which Herman recognized from Lycon's illness. So he resolved to wait and continued to devote the night which he had already intended to give him to the sufferer. From the chair at the foot of the bed, he looked directly into his face. The soft light of the lamp, which with two others hung from a tall heavy bronze stand in the shape of an anchor which Bayas had brought, shown brightly enough to allow him to perceive how powerful was the man whose life he had saved. His own face was scarcely lighter in hue than the barbarians and how sharp was the contrast between his long thick black beard and his white face and bare arched chest. Herman had noticed this same contrast in his own person. Otherwise, the Gael did not resemble him in a single feature and he might even have refused to compare his soft wavy beard with the harsh, almost bristly one of the barbarian. And what a defiant, almost evil expression his countenance wore when, perhaps because his wound ached, he closed his lips more firmly. The children who so willingly let him, Herman, take them in his arms, would certainly have been afraid of this savage looking fellow. Yet in build and at any rate, in height and breadth of shoulders, there was some resemblance between him and the Gael. As a bridge builder, the injured man belonged in a certain sense to the ranks of the artist. And this increased Herman's interest in his patient, who was now probably out of the most serious danger. True, the Greek still cast many a searching glance at the barbarian, but his eyes closed more and more frequently. And at last, the idea took possession of him that he himself was the wounded man on the couch and someone else who again was himself was caring for him. He vainly strove to understand the impossibility of this division of his own being, but the more eagerly he did so, the greater became his bewilderment. Suddenly the scene changed, Ledska had appeared. Bending over him, she lavished words of love, but when, in passionate excitement, he sprang from the couch to draw her toward him, she changed into the nemesis to who statue she had just prayed. He stood still as if petrified and the goddess too did not stir. Only the wheel which had rested at her feet began to move and rolled with a thundering din sometimes around him, sometimes around the people who, as if they had sprung from the ground, formed a jeering company of spectators and clapped their hands and laughed and shouted whenever it rolled toward him and he sprang back in fear. Meanwhile, the wheel constantly grew larger and seemed to become heavier for the wooden beams over which it rolled splintered, crashing like thin lathes and the spectator's shouts of applause sounded ruder and fiercer. Then mortal terror suddenly seized him and while he shouted for help to Mertillas, Daphne and her father Arceus, his slave Bios, the old comrade of Alexander, Philippus and his wife, he awoke, bathed in perspiration and looked about him. But he must still be under the spell of the horrible dream for the rattling and clattering around him continued and the bed where the wounded gall had lain was empty. Hermann involuntarily dipped his hand into the water which stood ready to wet the bandages and he sprinkled his own face with it. But if he had ever beheld life with waking eyes, he was doing so now. Yet the barbarian had vanished and the noise in the house still continued. Was it possible that rats and mice? No, that was the shriek of a terrified human being. That a cry for help. This sound was the imperious command of a rough man's voice that, no, he was not mistaken, that was his own name and it came from the lips of Mertillas, anxiously, urgently calling for assistance. Then he suddenly realized that the White House had been attacked, that his friend must be rescued from robbers or the fury of a mob of bea mites and, like the bent wood of a projectile, when released from the news which holds it to the ground, the verile energy that characterized him sprang upward with mighty power. The swift glance that swept the room was sent to discover a weapon and before it completed the circuit, Hermann had already grasped the bronze anchor with the long rod twined with leaves and the teeth turned downward. Only one of the three little vessels filled with oil that hung from it was burning. Before swinging the heavy standard aloft, he freed it from the lamps which struck the floor with a clanging noise. The man to whom he dealt a blow with this ponderous impediment would forget to rise. Then, as if running for a prize in the gymnasium, he rushed through the darkness to the staircase and with breathless haste, groped his way down the narrow ladder-like steps. He felt himself in avenging punishing power like the nemesis who had pursued him in his dreams. He must rest the friend who was to him the most beloved of mortals from the rioters. To defeat them himself seemed a small matter. His shout, I'm coming, Mortillus. Snufus, Vyos, Dorcas, Cirrus, here, follow me, was to summon the old Egyptian doorkeeper and the slaves and inform his friend of the approach of the deliverer. The loudest roar echoed from his own studio. Its door stood wide open and black smoke mingled with the deep red and yellow flames of burning pitch poured from it toward him. Mortillus, he shouted at the top of his voice as he leaped across the threshold into the tumult which filled the spacious apartment at the same time clashing the heavy iron anchor down upon the head of the broad-shouldered, half-naked fellow who was raising a clumsy lance against him. The pirate fell as though struck by lightning and again he shouted, Mortillus, into the big room so familiar to him where the conflict was raging chaotically amid a savage clamor and the smoke did not allow him to distinguish a single individual. For the second time he swung the terrible weapon and it struck to the floor the monster with a blackened face who had rushed toward him but at the same time the anchor broke in two. Only a short metal rod remained in his hand and while he raised his arm determined to crush the temples of the giant carrying a torch who sprang forward to meet him. It suddenly seemed as if a vulture with glowing plumage and burning beak was attacking his face and the terrible bird of prey was striking his hard, sharp red-hot talons more and more furiously into his lips, cheeks and eyes. At first a glare as bright as sunshine had flashed before his gaze. Then where he had just seen figures and things half veiled by the smoke he beheld only a scarlet surface which changed to violet and finally a black spot followed by a violet blue one while the vulture continued to rend his face with beak and talons. Then the name Myrtillus once more escaped his lips. This time however, it did not sound like the encouraging shout of an avenging hero but the cry for aid of ones succumbing to defeat and it was soon followed by a succession of frantic outbursts of suffering, terror and despair. But now sharp whistles from the water shrilly pierced the air and penetrated into the darkened room and while the tumult around Herman gradually died away he strove, tortured by burning pain, to grope his way toward the door but hear his foot struck against a human body there against something hard whose form he could not distinguish and finally a large object which felt cool and could be nothing but his demeanor. But she seemed doomed to destruction for the smoke was increasing every moment and constantly made his open wounds smart more fiercely. Suddenly a cooler air found his burning face and at the same time he heard hurrying steps approach and the mingled cries of human voices. Again he began to shout the names of his friends the slaves and the porter but no answer came from any of them though hasty questions in the Greek language fell upon his ear. The strategist with his officers the nomark of the district with his subordinates and many citizens of tennis had arrived. Herman knew most of them by their voices but their figures were not visible. The red, violet and black cloud before him was all he could see. Yet although the pain continued to torture him and a voice in his soul told him he was blinded he did not allow the government officials who eagerly surrounded him to speak only pointed hastily to his eyes and then bade them enter Mertillas's studio. The Egyptian cello, the tennis goldsmith who had assisted the artists in the preparation of the noble medal and one of the police officers who had been summoned to rid the old house of the rats and mice which infested it both knew the way. They must first try to save Mertillas's work and when that was accomplished preserve his also from destruction by the flames. Leaning on the goldsmith's arm Herman went to his friend's studio but before they reached it smoke and flames poured out so densely that it was impossible even to gain the door. Destroyed, a prey to the flames he groaned and he, he, he. Then like a mad man he asked if no one had seen Mertillas and where he was but in vain always in vain. At last the goldsmith who was leading him asked him to move aside for all who had flocked to the white house when it was seized by the flames had joined in the effort to save the statue of Demeter which they had found unharmed in his studio. 17 men by the exertion of all their strength were dragging the heavy statue from the house which was almost on the point of falling in into the square. Several others were bearing corpses into the open air the old porter's snufus and Mertillas's body servant. Some motionless forms they were obliged to leave behind. Both the bodies had deep wounds. There was no trace of Mertillas and Bios. Outside the storm had subsided and a cool breeze blew refreshingly into Herman's face as he walked arm in arm with the notary in Malampus who had invited him to his house and heard someone at his side exclaim how lavishly Eos is scattering her roses today he involuntarily lifted the cloth with which he had covered his smarting face to enjoy the beautiful flush of dawn but again beheld nothing save a black and violet blue surface. Then drawing his hand from his guide's arm he pressed it upon his poor sightless burning eyes and in helpless rage like a beast of prey which feels the teeth of the hunter's iron trap rend his flesh groan fiercely blind, blind and again and yet again blind. While the morning star was still pailing the lad who after Herman's landing had raced along the shore with a burning torch glided into the little pro naos of the temple of Nemesis. Let's go was still standing by the door post of the cello with uplifted hand. So deeply absorbed in fervent prayer that she did not perceive the approach of the messenger until he called her. Succeeded she asked in a muffled tone interrupting his hasty greeting. You must give the goddess what you vowed was the reply. Hano sends you the message and also you must come with me in the boat quickly at once. Where the girl demanded not on board the Hydra yet replied the boy hurriedly. First only to the old man on the Megara. The dowry is ready for your father but there is not a moment to lose. Well, well, she gasped hoarsely but first shall I find the man with the black beard on board of one of the ships? Certainly answered the lad proudly grasping her arm to hurry her but she shook him off violently turned toward the cello again and once more lifted her hands and eyes to the statue of Nemesis. Then she took the bundle she had hidden behind a pillar drew from it a handful of gold coins which she flung into the box intended for offerings and followed the boy. Alive she asked as she descended the steps but the lad understood the meaning of the question and answered yes indeed Hano says the wounds are not at all dangerous and the other not a scratch on the Hydra with two severely wounded slaves the porter and the others were killed and the statues they such things cannot be accomplished without some blunder Lavaja thinks so too did they escape you only one I myself helped to smash the other which stood in the workroom that looks out upon the water the golden ivory are on the ship we had horrible work with the statue which stood in the room whose windows face the square they dragged the great monster carefully into the studio that fronts upon the water but probably it is still standing there if the thing is not already just see how the flames are whirling upward if it is not already burned with the house what a misfortune Lezka reproachfully exclaimed it could not be helped the boy protested people from tennis suddenly rushed in the first a big furious fellow killed our Luley and the fierce Judas now he has to pay for it little car ebb through the black powder into his eyes while Hano himself thrust the torch in his face and by us the blackbeard slave I don't know oh yes wounded I believe on board the ship meanwhile the lad a precocious 14 year old cabin boy from the Hydra pointed to the boat which lay ready and took Lezka's bundle in his hand but she sprang into the light skiff before him and ordered it to be rode to the owl's nest where she must bid mother Tabas goodbye the cabin boy however declared positively that the command could not be obeyed now and add his signal two black sailors urged it with swift or strokes toward the northwest to Satabas's ship Hano wished to receive his bride as a wife from his father's hand Lezka had not insisted upon the fulfillment of her desire but as the boat passed the Pelican Island her gaze rested on the lusterless waning disc of the moon she thought of the torturing night during which she had vainly waited here for Herman and a triumphant smile hovered around her lips but soon the heavy eyebrows of the girl who was thus leaving her home contracted in a frown she again fancied she saw where the moon was just fading the body of a gigantic hideous spider she banished the illusion by speaking to the boy spiders in the morning mean misfortune the early dawn which was now crimsoning the east reminded her of the blood witch as an Avenger she must yet shed end of book one chapter seventeen end of book one book two chapter one of arachne this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Christine G arachne by George Ebbers translated by Mary J. Safford book two chapter one while the marketplace in tennis was filling archaeous white house had become a heap of smouldering ruins hundreds of men and women were standing around the scene of the conflagration but no one saw the statue of Demeter which had been removed from Herman's studio just in time the no-march had had it locked up in the neighbouring temple of the goddess it was rumoured that a divinity had saved her own statue by a miracle Pamol the police officer said that he had seen her himself as surrounded by a brilliant light she sawed upward on the smoke that poured from the burning house the strategist and a no-march used every means in their power to capture the robbers but without the least success as it had become known that Parseth Gula's husband had cast off his wife because she had gone to Herman's studio the magistrates believed that the attack had been made by the Biametus yet Parseth was absent from the city during the assault and the innocence of the others could also be proved since for two entire years piracy had entirely ceased in this neighbourhood no one thought of Corsairs and the bodies of the incendiaries having been consumed by the flames with the White House it could not be a certain to what class the Moraders belonged the blinded sculpture could only testify that one of the robbers was a negro but anyway had had his face blackened and that the size of another had appeared to him almost superhuman this circumstance gave rise to the fable that during the terrible storm of the previous day Hades had opened and spirits of darkness had rushed into the studio of the Greek betrayer the strategist it is true did not believe such tales but the superstition of the Biametus who moreover aided the Greeks reluctantly to punish a crime which threatened to involve their own countrymen put obstacles in the way of his meshes not until he heard of Ledshar's disappearance and was informed by the priest of Nemesis of the Handsome Sum which had been found in the offering box of the temple shortly after the attack did he arrive at a conjecture not very far from the real state of affairs only it was still incomprehensible to him what body of men could have placed themselves at the disposal of a girl's vengeful plan on the second day after the fire the epistrategist of the whole delta who had accidentally come to the border fortress arrived at tennis on the galley of the commandant of Pelusium and with him propolis the grammatiers of the Dionysian artists the Lady Theona Daphne and her companion Crisilla the old hero Philipus was detained in the fortress by the preparations for war Althea had returned to Alexandria and Philotus who disliked her had gone there himself as Crisilla intimated to him that he could hope for no success in his suit to her ward as long as Daphne had to devote herself to the care of the blinded Herman the epistrategist proceeded with great caution but his efforts also remained futile he ordered a report to be made of all the vessels which had entered the harbours and bays of the northeastern delta but those commanded by Cetibus and his sons gave no cause for investigation they had come into the tannite arm of the Nile as lumber ships from Pontus and had discharged beans and planks for the account of a well-known commercial house in Sinopah yet the official ordered the owls nest to be searched in doing this he made himself guilty of an act of violence as the island's right of asylum still existed and this incensed the irritable and refractory biometis the more violently the deeper was the reverent awe with which the nation regarded Tabas who, according to their belief was over a hundred years old the biometis honored her not only as an enchantress and a leech but as the ancestors of a race of mighty men by molesting this aged woman and interfering with an ancient privilege the epistrategist lost the aid of the hostile fishermen, sailors and weavers any information from their ranks to him was regarded as treachery and, besides his stay in tennis could be but brief as the king on account of the impending war had summoned him back to the capital on the third day after his arrival he left tennis and sailed from tennis for Alexandria he had had little time to attend to Theona and her guests Proclas, too, could not devote himself to them until after the departure of the epistrategists since he had gone immediately to tennis where, as head of the Dionysian artists of all Egypt he had been occupied in attending to the affairs of the newly established theatre on his return to tennis he had instantly requested to be conducted to the temple of Demeter to inspect the blinded Herman's rescued work he had entered the cellar of the sanctuary with the expectation of finding a peculiar probably a powerful work but one repugnant to his taste and left it fairly overpowered by the beauty of this noble work of art what he had formally seen of Herman's productions had prejudiced him against the artist whose talent was great but who, instead of dedicating it to service of the beautiful and the sublime chose subjects which, to Proclas, did not seem worthy of artistic treatment or, when they were sedulously deprived them of that by which, in his eyes, they gained genuine value in Herman's Olympian banquet he who had also held the office of a high priest of Apollo in Alexandria had even seen an insult to the dignity of the deity in the street boy eating figs the concierge I had recognized a peculiar masterpiece but he had been repelled by this also for, instead of a handsome boy it represented a starving, emanciated vagabond true to life as this figure might be it seemed to him reprehensible for it had already induced other to choose similar vulgar subjects when recently, at Althea's performance he had met Herman and saw how quickly his beautiful travelling companion allowed herself to be induced to bestow the wreath on the handsome black-bedded fellow it vexed him and he had therefore treated him with distant coldness and allowed him to perceive the disapproval which the direction taken by his art had awakened in his mind in the presence of Herman's Demeter the opinion of the experienced man an intelligent concierge had suddenly changed the creator of this work was not only one of the foremost artists of his day nay, he had also been permitted to fathom the nature of the deity and to bestow upon it a perfect form this Demeter was the most successful personification of the divine goodness which rewards the sewing of seed with the harvest when Herman created it Daphne's image had hovered before his mind even if he had not been permitted to use her as a model and of all the maidens whom he knew there was scarcely one better suited to serve as the type for the Demeter so what he had seen in Pelusium and learned from woman was true the heart and mind of the artist who had created this work were not filled with the image of Arthea who during the journey had bestowed many a mark of favour upon the ageing man and with whom he was obliged to work hand in hand for Queen Aresornus' plans but a daughter of Arceus and this circumstance also aided in producing his change of view Herman's blindness, it was to be hoped, would be cured duty, and perhaps also interest, commanded him to show him, frankly how highly he estimated his art and his last work after the arrival of Theona and Daphne Herman had consented to accompanying them on board the Prosperpina their spacious galley true he had yielded reluctantly to this arrangement of his parents' old friend and neither she nor Daphne had hitherto succeeded in soothing the fierce resentment against faith which filled his soul after a loss of his sight and his dearest friend as yet every attempt to induce him to bear his terrible misfortune would even a certain degree of composure had failed the tennis leech trained by the Egyptian priest at Seis in the art of healing who was attached as a pastel forest to the temple of Isis in the city of Wevers had covered the artist's scorched face with bandages and earnestly adjoined him never in his absence to raise them and to keep every ray of light from his blinded eyes but the agitation which had mastered Herman's whole being was so great that in spite of the woman's protestation he lifted the covering again and again to see whether he could not perceive once more at least a glimmer of the sunlight whose warming power he felt the thought of living in darkness until the end of his life seemed unendurable especially as now all the horrors which hitherto had only visited him in times of trial during the night assailed him with never ceasing cruelty the image of the spider often forced itself upon him and he fancied that the busy insect was spreading its quickly made web over his blinded eyes which he here was not to touch yet over which he passed his hand to free them from the repulsive wheel the myth related that because Athena's blow had struck the ambitious Weaver Arachne she had resolved before the goddess transformed her into a spider to put an end to her disgrace how infinitely harder was the one dealt to him how much better reason he had to use the privilege in which man possesses an advantage over the immortals of putting himself to death with his own hand when he deems the fitting time has come what should he, the artist to whom his eyes brought whatever made life valuable do longer in this hideous black night brightened by no sunbeam he was often overwhelmed too by the remembrance of the terrible end of the friend in whom he saw the only person who might have given him consolation in this distress and the painful thought of his poverty he was supported solely by what his art brought and his wealthy uncle allowed him the Demeter which Arceus had ordered had been partially paid for in advance and he had intended to use the gold a considerable sum paid debts in Alexandria but it was consumed with the rest of his property tools, clothing, mementos of his dead parents and a few books which contained his favourite poems and the writings of his master Stratton these precious rolls had aided him to maintain the proud conviction of owing everything which he attained or possessed solely to himself it had again become perfectly clear to him that the destiny of earth-born mortals was not directed by the gods whom men had invented after their own likeness in order to find cause for the effects which they perceived but by death and blind chance else how could even worse misfortune according to the opinion of most people have befallen the pure guiltless, murderless who so deeply revered the Olympians and understood how to honour them so magnificently by his art then himself the despiser of the gods but was the death for which he longed a misfortune was a nemesis who had so swiftly and fully granted the fervent prayer of an ill-used girl also only an imaged conjure up by the power of human imagination it was scarcely possible yet if there was one goddess did not that admit the probability of the existence of all the others? he shuddered at the idea for if the immortal thought, felt, acted how terribly his already cruel fate would still develop he had denied and insulted almost all the Olympians and not even stirred a finger to the praise and honour of a single one what marvel if they should choose him for the target of their resentment and revenge he had just believed that the heaviest misfortune which can befall a man and an artist had already stricken him now he felt that this too had been an error for like a physical pain he realised the collapse of the proud illusions of being independent of every power except himself freely and arbitrarily controlling his own destiny owing no gratitude except to his own might and being compelled to yield to nothing saved the enigmatic pitiless power of eternal laws or their co-operation so incomprehensible to the human intellect called chance which took no heed of merit or unworthiness must he who had learnt to silence and starve every Kovic's desire in order to require no gifts from his own uncle and his wealthy kinsmen and friend and be able to continue to hold his head high as the most independent of the independent now in addition to all this other woe be forced to believe in powers that exercise an influence over his every act must he recognise praying to them and thanking them as a demand of justice of duty and wisdom what is possible either believing himself alone since he could not see thy own and Daphne who were close by him he struck his scorched brow with his clinched fist because he felt like a free man who suddenly realises that a rope which he cannot break is bound around his hands and feet and a giant pulls and loosens it at his pleasure yet no better die than become for gods and men a puppet that obeys every jerk of a visible and invisible hands starting up in violent excitement he tore the bandage from his face and eyes as the theone seriously reprimanded him that he would go away no matter where and earn his daily bread at the handmill like the blind Ethiopian slave whom he had seen in the cabin to make his house a tennis then Daphne spoke to him tenderly but a soothing voice caused him keen pain than his old friend's stern one to sit still longer seemed unendurable and with the intention of regaining his lost composure by pacing to and through he began to walk but at the first free step he struck against the little table in front of thy own's couch and it was upset and the vessels containing water fell with it clinking and breaking he stopped and as if utterly crushed groped his way back with both arms outstretched to the armchair he had quitted if he could only have seen Daphne press her handkerchief first to her eyes from which tears were streaming and then to her lips that he might not hear her sobs if he could have perceived how thy own is wrinkled old face contracted as if she were swallowing a colosant apple well at the same time she patted his strong shoulder briskly exclaiming with false cheerfulness go on my boy the steer rears when the hornet stings try again if it only suits you we will take everything out of your way you need not mind the water jars the potter would make new ones then Herman threw back his burning head rested it against the back of the chair and did not stir until a bandage was renewed how comfortable it felt he knew too that he owed it to Daphne the matron's fingers could not be so slender and delicate and he would have been more than glad to raise them to his lips and thank her but he denied himself the pleasure if she really did love him the bond between them must now be severed for even if her goodness of heart extended far enough to induce her to unite her blooming young existence to his crippled one how could he have accepted a sacrifice without humiliating himself whether such a marriage would have made her happy or miserable he did not ask but he was all the more keenly aware that if in this condition he became her husband he would be the recipient of her alms and he would far rather he mentally repeated share the fate of the negro at a handmill the expression of his features reveal the current of his thoughts to Daphne and much as she wished to speak to him she forced herself to remain silent that the tones of her voice might not betray how deeply she was suffering with him but he himself now longed for kind word from her lips and he had just asked if she was still there when Thione announced a visit from the Grametius Proclus he had recently felt that this man was unfriendly to him and again his anger burst forth to be exposed in the midst of his misery to the scorn of a despise of his art was too much for his exhausted patience but here he was interrupted by Proclus himself who had entered the darkened cabin where the blind man remained very soon after Thione Herman's last words had betrayed to the experienced courtier how well he remembered his unkind remarks so he deferred the expression of his approval and began by delivering the farewell message of the epistrategous who had been summoned away so quickly he stated that his investigations had discovered nothing of importance except perhaps the confirmation of the sorrowful apprehension that the admirable murderless had been killed by the Morodists a carved stone had been found under the ashes and Cello, the Tennis Goldsmith said he had had in his own workshop the gem set in the hapless artist's shoulder-glasp and supplied it with a new pin while speaking he took Herman's hand and gave him the stone but the artist instantly used his fingertips to feel it perhaps it really did belong to the Class Metilius War for, although still unpracticed and groping he recognized that his human head was carved in relief upon the stone and murderlesses had been adorned with the likeness of the Epicurean the damaged little work of art in the opinion of Proclus and Daphne appeared to represent his philosopher and at the thought that his friend had fallen a victim to the flames Herman bowed his head and exerted all his strength over will in order not to betray by violent sobs how deeply this idea pierced his heart Thione shrugging her shoulders mournfully pointed to the suffering artist Proclus nodded significantly and moving nearer to Herman informed him that he had sought out his Demeter and found the statue uninjured he was well aware that it would be presumptuous to offer consolation and so heavy an affliction and after the loss of his dearest friend yet perhaps Herman would be glad to hear his assurance that he whose judgment was certainly not unpracticed numbered his work among the most perfect which the sculptor's art had created in recent years I myself best know the value of this Demeter the sculpture broke in harshly your praise is the bit of honey which is put into the mouth of her child no my friend Proclus protested with grave decision I should express no less warmly with which this noble figure of the goddess fills me if you were well and still possessed your sight you were right just now when you alluded to my aversion or let us say lack of the appreciation of the individuality of your art but this noble work changes everything and nothing affords me more pleasure than that I am to be first to assure you how magnificently you have succeeded in this statue the first Herman again interrupted harshly but the second and third will be lacking in alexandria what a pleasure it is to pour the gifts of sympathy upon one to whom we wish ill but however successful my Demeter my being you would have awarded the price twice over to the one by Merchilis wrong my young friend the statement protested with honest seal all honor to the great dead whose end was so lamentable but in this contest let me swayed by the goddess herself you would have remained victor for for at the utmost nothing can rank with the incomparable savor work of equal merit and I know life and art two artists rarely pursued in anything so perfect as this masterpiece at the same time and in the same place enough get Herman horseward excitement but proclas with increasing animation continued brief as is our acquaintance you have probably perceived that I do not belong to the class of flutterers and in alexandria it has hardly remained unknown to you that the younger artists number me to whom the officer of judge show often falls among the sterner critics only because I decide the best good do I frankly point out their errors the multitude provides the price it will soon flow upon you also in torrents I can see it approach and as this blindness if the august ice gulapius and healing ice's aid will pass away like a dreary winter night it would seem to me criminal to deceive you about your own ability and success I already behold you creating other works to the delight of gods and men but this demeter extorts boundless enthusiastic appreciation both as a whole and in detail it is faultless and worthy of the most ardent praise oh how long it is my dear friend unfortunate friend since I could congratulate any other alexandrian with such joyful confidence upon the most magnificent success every word you may believe it which comes to you in commendation of this last work from lips unused to eulogy is sincerely meant and as I utter it to you I shall repeat it in the presence of the king august and the other judges Daphne, with hurried breath, deeply flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, had fairly hung upon the lips of a clever concierge she knew proclus and his dreaded absolutely inconsiderate acuteness and was aware that this praise expressed his deepest conviction had he had been dissatisfied with the statue of demeter or even merely superficially touched by its beauty he might have shrunk by wounding the unfortunate artist by censure and remained silent but only something grand consummate could lead him to such warmth of recognition she now felt it a misfortune that she and Thiona had the hitherto been prevented by anxiety for the patient from admiring his work had it still been light she would have gone to the temple of Demeter at once but the sun had just set and proclus was obliged to beg her to have patience as the cases were standing finished at the cabin's maketh the statue had been packed immediately under his own direction and carried on board his ship which would convey it with him to the capital the next day while this arrangement called forth loud expressions of regret from Daphne and the vivacious matron Herman assented to it for it would at least accure the ladies until their arrival in Alexandria from a painful disappointment rather proclus protested with firm dissent it will rob you for some time of a great pleasure and you noble daughter of Arcus probably the deepest emotion of gratitude with which the favour of the immortals have hitherto rendered you happy yet the master who created this genuine goddess owes the best part of it to your own face he told me himself that he thought of me while at work Daphne admitted and a flood of the warmest love reached Herman's ears in her agitated tones while greatly perplexed he wondered with increasing anxiety whether the stern critic proclus had really been serious in the extravagant eulogium so alien to his reputation in the city Myrtleus too had admired the head of his Demeter and this he himself might admit he had succeeded in it and yet ought not to the figure with its two pronounced inclination forward which it is true corresponded with Daphne's usual bearing and the somewhat angular bend of the arms have induced this keen-sighted concierge to moderate the exalted strain of his praise I was to hold really so admirable that it would have seemed petty to find fault with the less successful details at any rate proclus' eulogy ought to give him twofold pleasure because his art had formally repelled him and Herman tried to let it produce this effect upon him but it would not do he was continually overpowered by the feeling that under the enthusiastic homage of the intriguing Queen Arizonus' favourite lurked a sting which he should someday feel or could proclus have been persuaded by Thione and Daphne to help them reconcile the hapless blind man to his heart-fate Herman's every movement portrayed the great anxiety which filled his mind and it by no means escaped proclus' attention but he attributed it to the blinded sculptor's anguish in being prevented after so great a success from pursuing his art further sincerely touched he laid his slender hand on the sufferer's muscular arm saying a more severe trial endures my young friend can scarcely be imposed upon the artist who has just attained the highest goal but three things warrant you to hope for recovery your vigorous youth the skill of your Alexandrian leeches and the favour of the immortal gods you shrug your shoulders yet I insist that you have won this favour by your demeter true you owe it less to yourself than to yonder maiden what pleasure it affords one whom, like myself, taste an office bind to the arts to perceive such a revolution in an artist's course of creation and trace it to its source I indulged myself in it and if you will listen I should like to show you the result speak replied Herman Dolly bowing his head as if submitting to the inevitable while proclus began hither to your art imitated not without success what your eyes showed you and if this was filled with the warm breath of life your work succeeded all respect to your boy eating figs in his presence you would feel the pleasure he himself enjoyed while consuming the sweet fruit here among the works of Egyptian antiquity there is imminent danger of falling under the tyranny of the canon of proportions which can be expressed in figures or merely even the demands of the style hallowed by thousands of years but in a subject like the figure such a reproach is not to be feared he speaks his own intelligible language and whoever reproduces it without turning to the right or left has won for he has created a work whose value every true friend of art no matter to what school he belongs prices highly to me personally such works of living reality accordingly welcome yet art neither can nor will be satisfied with snatches what is close at hand but you are late born sons of a time when the two great tendencies of art have nearly reached the limits of what is attainable to them you were everywhere confronted with completed work and you are right when you refuse to sink to mere imitations of earlier works and therefore return to nature with which we Hellenies and perhaps the Egyptians also began the later forgot her the former we Greeks continued to cling to her closely some few Herman eagerly interrupted the other still think it worked trouble to take from her what she alone can bestow they saved themselves to toil some search for the model which others so successfully used before them and bronze and marble still keeps wonderfully well bring out the old masterpieces take the head from this one the arm from that etc the pupil impresses the proportions on his mind only so far as the longing for the beautiful permits do even the better ones remain faithful to nature not a finger's breath more quite right the other went on calmly but your objection only brings one nearer to go how many who care only for a plus content themselves today unfortunately with nature at second hand without returning to her eternal flesh inexhaustible spring they draw from the convenient accessible wells which the great ancients dug for them I know these many Hermel wrathfully exclaimed they are brothers of the Homeric poets who take verses from the Iliad and Odysseys to piece out from their their own pitiful poems excellent my son exclaimed Iona laughing and after they remarked that the poet Cleon had surprised the father with such a poem a few weeks before it was a marvellous bit of butchwork and yet there was a certain meaning in the production compiled solely from Homeric verses Diomedicuba observed Proclus and the Aphrodite by Hippias which were executed in marble originated in the same way and deserve no better fate although they pleased the great multitude praise be my lord Apollo our age can also boast of our other artists filled with the spirit of the god they are able to model truthfully and faithfully even the forms of the immortals invisible to the physical eye they stand before the spectator as if borrowed from nature for their creators have filled them with their own healthy vigour our poor merciless belong to this class and and after you're the meter the world will include you in it also and yet answered Herman in a tone of dissent I remained fateful to myself and put nothing nothing at all of my own personality into the forms borrowed from nature what need of that was there asked Proclus with a subtle smile your model spared you the task and this at last brings me to the goal I decide to reach as the great Atheans created types of eternity so also does nature at times in a happy hour for her own pleasure and such a model you found in your dawfney no contradiction my dear young lady the outlines of the figure by the dog Herman might possibly have found forms no less beautiful in the aphrodisiom but how charming and lifelike is the somewhat unusual yet graceful pose for us and then the heart the soul in your companionship our artists had nothing to do except lovingly to share your feelings in order to have at his disposal everything which renders so dear to us all the giver of bread the preserver of peace the protector of marriage the creator and supporter of the law of moderation in nature as well as in human existence where would all these traits be found more perfectly united in a single human being than in your person dawfney you're quite kindly room oh stop the girl in treated I'm only too well aware that you also are not free from human frailities proclies continued and dismayed we will take them great or small as they may be into the bargain the secret ones do not concern the sculpture who does not or will not see them what he perceives in you but you enable him to recognize through every feature of your sweet tranquilizing face is enough for the genuine artist to imagine the goddess for the distinction between the mortal and the immortal is only the degree of perfection and the human intellect an artist's soul can find nothing more perfect in the whole domain or the meters jurisdiction than is presented to them in your nature our friend yonder sees that and his magnificent work of art proves how nearly it approaches the purest and loftiest conception we form of the goddess whom he had to represent it is not that he defied you dawfney he merely bestowed on the divinity forms which he recognized in you just at that moment obeying an uncontrollable impulse Herman pulled the bandage from his eyes to see once more the woman to whom this warm homage was paid was the experience concierge of art and the artist's soul in the right he had told himself the same thing when he selected dawfney for a model and her head reproduced what propolis praised as the common possession of dawfney and demeter truthful, murderless had also seen it perhaps his work had really been so marvelously successful because while he was engaged upon it his friend had constantly stood before his mind in all the charm of her inexhaustible goodness animated by the ardent desire to gaze once more at the beloved face to which he now owed also this unexpectedly great success he turned toward the spot whence her voice had reached him but a wall of violet mist dotted with black specks was all that his blinded eyes showed him and with a low groan he drew the linen cloth over the burns this time propolis also perceived what was passing in the poor artist's mind when he took leave of him it was with the resolve to do his utmost to brighten with the stars of recognition and renown the dark night of suffering which enshrouded this highly gifted sculpture whose unexpectedly great modesty had pre-possessed him still more in his favor End of Book 2, Chapter 1 Recording by Christine G. in Oslo, Norway the 23rd of October, 2011 Book 2, Chapter 2 of Arachne This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings on the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nadine Kurt Boulay Arachne by Georg Ebers translated by Mary J. Safford Book 2, Chapter 2 After the Grammatius had retired Daphne insisted upon leaving Tennis the next day The desire to see Herman's masterpiece drew her back to Alexandria even more strongly than the knowledge of being missed by her father Only the separation from Thion rendered the departure difficult For the motherless girl had found in her something for which she had long yearned and most sorely missed in her companion Chrysilla who from expediency approved of everything she did or said The matron too had become warmly attached to Daphne and would gladly have done all that lay in her power to lighten Herman's sad fate yet she persisted in her determination to return speedily to her old husband in Pelosium But she did not fully realize how difficult this departure would be for her until the blind man, after a long silence asked whether it was night if the stars were in the sky and if she really intended to leave him Then burning sympathy filled her compassionate soul and she could no longer restrain her tears Daphne too covered her face and imposed the strongest restraint upon herself that she might not sob aloud So it seemed a boon to both when Herman expressed the desire to spend part of the night on deck This desire contained a summons to action and to be able to bestow themselves in useful service appeared like a favor to Thion and Daphne Without calling upon a slave a female servant or even Chrysilla for the smallest office the two prepared a couch on deck for the blind man and, leaning on the girl's stronger arm he went up into the open air There he stretched both arms heavenward inhaled deep breath of the cool night breeze and thirstily emptied the goblet of wine which Daphne mixed and gave him with her own hand Then, with a sigh of relief, he said Everything has not grown black yet A delightful feeling of pleasure takes possession even of the blind man when the open air refreshes him and the wine warms his blood in the sunshine of your kindness And much better things are still in prospect Daphne assured him I think what rapture it will be when you are permitted to see the light again after so long a period of darkness When, repeated Herman, his head drooping as he spoke It must be, it must be so rang with confident assurance from Thion's lips And then added Daphne gazing sometimes upward to the firmament strewn with shining stars sometimes across the brood rippling expense of the water in which the reflection of the heavenly body is shimmered in glittering silvery radiance Yes, Herman, who would not be glad to exchange with you then? You may shake your head, but I would take your place quickly and with joyous courage There is a proof of the existence of the gods which so exactly suits the hour when you will again see enjoy, admire what this dreary darkness now hides from you It was a philosopher who used it I no longer know which one How often I have thought of it since this cruel misfortune befell you and now Go on, Herman interrupted with a smile of superiority You are thinking of Aristotle's man who grew up in a dark cave The conditions which must precede the devout astonishment of the liberated youth when he first emerged into the light and the verdant world would certainly exist in me Oh, not in that way, pleaded the wounded girl and Thion exclaimed What is the story of the man you mention? We don't talk about Aristotle and such subjects in Pelusium Perhaps they are only too much discussed in Alexandria said the blind artist The stagian rite, as you have just heard seeks to prove the existence of the gods by the man of whom I spoke No, he does prove it, protested Daphne Just listen, Mother Thion A little boy grows up from earliest childhood into a youth in a dark cave Then suddenly its doors are open to him For the first time he sees the sun, moon and stars, flowers and trees perhaps even a beautiful human face But at the moment when all these things rush upon him like so many incomprehensible marvels must he not ask himself who created all this magnificence and the answer which comes to him There is only one, cried the matron, the omnipotent gods Do you shrug your shoulders at that, son of the pious irrigone? Why, of course, the child who still feels the blows probably rebels against his earthly father But if I see you right the resentment will not last when you, like the man go out of the cave and your darkness also passes away Then the power from which you turn defiantly will force itself upon you and you will raise your hands in grateful prayer to the rescuing divinity As to us women, we need not be drawn out of a cave to recognize it A mother who reared three stalwart sons I will say nothing of the daughters cannot live without them Why are they so necessary to her? Because we love our children twice as much as ourselves and the danger which threatens them alarms the poor mother's heart thrice as much as her own Then it needs the helping powers Even though they often refuse their aid we may still be grateful for the expectation of relief I have poured forth many prayers for the three I assure you and after doing so with my whole soul then, my son, no matter how widely the storm had raged within my breast calmness returned and hope again took her place at the helm In the school of the denier of the gods you forgot the immortals above and depended on yourself alone Now you need a guide or even two or three of them in order to find the way If your mother were still alive you would run back to her to hide your face in her lap But she is dead And if I were as proud as you before clasping the sustaining hand of another mortal I would first try whether one would not be voluntarily extended from among the Olympians If I were you I would begin with Demeter whom you honored by so marvelous a work Herman waved his hand as if brushing away a troublesome fly exclaiming impatiently The gods, always the gods I know by my own mother, Thion, what you women are though I was only seven years old when I was bereft of her by the same powers that you call good and wise and who have also rubbed me of my eyesight, my friend and all else that was dear I thank you for your kind intention and you too, Daphne, for recalling the beautiful allegory how often we have argued over its meaning If we continued the discussion perhaps it might pleasantly shorten the next few hours which I dread as I do my whole future existence but I should be obliged in the outset to yield the victory to you The great Herophilus is right when he transfers the seat of thought from the heart to the head what a wild tumult is raging here behind my brow and how one voice drowns another the medley baffles description I could more easily count with my blind eyes the cells in the honeycomb than refute with my bewildered brain even one shrewd objection it seems to me that we need our eyes to understand things we certainly do to taste whatever I eat and drink langoustae and melons light mariotic wine and the dark liqueur of bibless my tongue can scarcely distinguish it the leech assures me that this will pass away but until the chaos within merges into endurable order there is nothing better for me than solitude and rest, rest, rest We will not deny them to you, replied Thion cleansing significantly at Daphne Proclus' enthusiastic judgement was sincerely meant Begin by rejoicing over it in the innermost depth of your heart and vividly imagining what a wealth of exquisite joys will be yours through your last masterpiece Willingly, if I can, replied the blind man gratefully extending his hand if I could only escape the doubt whether the most cruel tyrant could devise anything baser than to rub the artist the very person to whom it is everything of his sight Yes, it is terrible, Daphne assented yet it seems to me that a richer compensation for the last gift is at the disposal of your artist than of us other mortals for you understand how to look with the eyes of the soul with them you retain what you have seen and illumine it with a special radiance Homer was blind and for that very reason I think the world and life became clear and transfigured for him though a veil concealed both from his physical vision The poet, Herman exclaimed he draws from his own soul what sight and sight alone brings to us cultures and besides his spirit remain free from the horrible darkness that assailed mine Joy itself, Daphne, has lost its illuminating power within What, girl, what is to become of the heart in which even hope was destroyed Defend it manfully and keep up your courage she answered softly but he pressed her hand firmly and in order not to betray how self-compassion was melting his own soul burst forth impetuously say rather crush the wish whose fulfillment is self-humiliation I will go back to Alexandria even the blind and crippled can find ways to earn their bread there now grant me rest and leave me alone Thion drew the girl away with her into the ship's cabin a short time after the stewart grass went to Herman to entreat him to yield to Thion's entreaties and leave the deck the leech had directed the sufferer to protect himself from droats and dampness and the cool night mists were rising more and more densely from the water Herman doubtless felt them but the thought of returning to the closed cabin was unendurable he fancied that his torturing thoughts would stifle him in the gloom where even fresh air was denied him he allowed the careful Bithynian to throw a covalet over him and draw the hood of his cloak over his head but his entreaties and warnings were futile the stewart's watchful nursing reminded Herman of his own solicitude for his friend and of his faithful slave Byers, both of whom he had lost then he remembered the eulogy of the Gramatius and it brought up the question whether Murtilus would have agreed with him like Proclus, his keen-sighted and honest friend called Daphne the best model for the kindly goddess he, too, had given to his statue the features of the daughter of Achias and admitted that he had been less successful but the figure perhaps he, Herman, in his perpetual dissatisfaction with himself had condemned his own work too severely but that it lacked the proper harmony had escaped neither Murtilus nor himself now he recalled the whole creation to his remembrance and its weaknesses forced themselves upon him so strongly and objectionably that the extravagant praise of the stern critic awakened fresh doubts in his mind yet a man like the Gramatius who on the morrow or the day following it would be obliged to repeat his opinion before the king and the judges certainly would not have allowed himself to be carried away by mere compassion to so great a falsification of his judgment or was he himself sharing the experience of many a fellow artist how often the creator deceived himself concerning the value of his own work he had expected the greatest success from his polyfamous hurling the rock at Odysseus escaping in the boat and a gigantic smith had posed for a model yet the judges had condemned it in the severest manner as a work far exceeding the bounds of moderation and arousing positive dislike the clay figure had not been executed in stone or metal and crumbled away the opposite would probably now happen with the Demeter her bending attitude had seemed to him daring nay, hazardous but the acute critic Broclus had perceived that it was in accord with one of Daphne's habits and therefore numbered it among the excellences of the statue if the judges who awarded the prize agreed with the verdict of the Gramatius he must accustom himself to value his own work higher perhaps even above that of Murtilus but was this possible? he saw his friend's Demeter as though it was standing before him and again he recognized in it the noblest masterpiece its maker had ever created what praise this marvelous work would have deserved if his own really merited such high encomiums suddenly an idea came to him which at first he rejected as inconceivable but it would not allow itself to be thrust aside and its consideration made his breath fail what if his own Demeter had been destroyed and Murtilus' statue saved if the latter was falsely believed to be his work then Broclus' judgment was explained then, then seized by a torturing anguish he groaned aloud and the Stuart Gras inquired what he wanted Hermon hastily grasped the Bithynian's arm and asked what he knew about the rescue of his statue the answer was by no means satisfying Gras had only heard that after being found uninjured in his studio it had been dragged with great exertion into the open air the goldsmith cello had directed the work Hermon remembered all this himself yet with an imperious curtness in marked contrast to his usual pleasant manner to these worthy servant he hoarsely commanded him to bring cello to him early the next morning and then again relapsed into his solitary meditations if the terrible conjecture which had just entered his mind should be confirmed no cause remained save to extinguish the only new light which now illumined the darkness of his night or to become a cheat yet his resolution was instantly formed if the goldsmith corroborated his fear he would publicly attribute the rescued work to the man who created it and he persisted in this intention indignantly silencing the secret voice which strove to shake it it temptingly urged that Myrtleus, so rich in successes, needed no new garland his lost sight would permit him, Hermon, from reaping fresh laurels and his friend would so gladly bestow this one upon him but he angrily closed his ears to these enticements and felt it a humiliation that they dared to approach him with proud self-reliance he threw back his head saying to himself that though Myrtleus should permit him ten times over to deck himself with his feathers he would reject them he would remain himself and was conscious of possessing powers which perhaps surpassed his friends he was as well qualified to create a genuine work of art as the best culture only hitherto the muse had denied him success in awakening pleasure and blindness would put an end to creating anything of his own the more vividly he recalled to memory his own work and his friends the more probable appeared his disquieting supposition he also saw Myrtleus' figure before him and in imagination heard his friend again promise that with the arachne he would rest the price even from him during the terrible events of the last hours he had thought but seldom and briefly of the weaver whom it had seemed a rare piece of good fortune to be permitted to represent now the remembrance of her took possession of his soul with fresh power the image of arachne illumined by the lamplight which Althea had showed him appeared like worthless jugglery and he soon drove it back into the darkness which surrounded him Letcher's figure, however, rose before him all the more radiantly the desire to possess her had flown to the forewinds but he thought he had never before beheld anything more peculiar more powerful or better worth modeling than the biomass girl as he saw her in the temple of Nemesis with uplifted hand invoking the vengeance of the goddess upon him and there, he discovered it now, Daphne was not at all mistaken images never presented themselves as distinctly to those who could see as to the blind man in his darkness if he was ever permitted to receive his sight what a statue of the avenging goddess he could create from this greatest event in the history of his vision after this work of that he was sure he would no longer need the borrowed fame which, moreover, he rejected with honest indignation