Arachne, Volume 4.

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ARACHNE

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4.

CHAPTER XIV.

Outside the door of the tent Hermon was trying to banish Althea's image
from his mind. How foolishly he had overestimated last night the value
of this miserable actress, who as a woman had lost all charm for him--
even as a model for his Arachne!

He would rather have appeared before his pure friend with unsightly
stains on his robe than while mastered by yearning for the Thracian.

The first glance at Daphne's beloved face, the first words of her
greeting, taught him that he should find with her everything for which
he longed.

In simple, truthful words she reproached him for having neglected her
to the verge of incivility the evening before, but there was no trace of
bitterness or resentment in the accusation, and she gave Hermon little
time for apology, but quickly gladdened him with words of forgiveness.

In the opinion of her companion Chrysilla, Daphne ought to have kept the
capricious artist waiting much longer for pardon. True, the cautious
woman took no part in the conversation afterward, but she kept her charge
in sight while she was skilfully knotting the fringe into a cloth which
she had woven herself. On account of her favourite Philotas, it was well
for Daphne to be aware that she was watched.

Chrysilla was acquainted with life, and knew that Eros never mingles more
arbitrarily in the intercourse of a young couple than when, after a long
separation, there is anything whatever to forgive.

Besides, many words which the two exchanged escaped her hearing, for they
talked in low tones, and it was hot in the tent. Often the fatigue she
felt after the sleepless night bowed her head, still comely with its
unwrinkled face, though she was no longer young; then she quickly raised
it again.

Neither Daphne nor Hermon noticed her. The former at once perceived that
something was weighing on the sculptor's mind, but he did not need any
long inquiry. He had come to confide his troubles to her, and she kindly
lightened the task for him by asking why he had not gone to breakfast
with the Pelusinians.

"Because I am not fit for gay company today," was the reply.

"Again dissatisfied with Fate?"

"True, it has given me small cause for contentment of late."

"Put in place of Fate the far-seeing care of the gods, and you will
accept what befalls you less unkindly."

"Let us stick to us mortals, I entreat you."

"Very well, then. Your Demeter does not fully satisfy you."

A discontented shrug of the shoulders was the reply.

"Then work with twofold zeal upon the Arachne."

"Although one model I hoped to obtain forsook me, and my soul is
estranged from the other."

"Althea?" she asked eagerly, and he nodded assent.

Daphne clapped her hands joyfully, exclaiming so loudly that Chrysilla's
head sprang up with a jerk. "It could not help being so! O Hermon! how
anxious I have been! Now, I thought, when this horrible woman
represented the transformation into the spider with such repulsive
accuracy, Hermon will believe that this is the true, and therefore the
right, ideal; nay, I was deceived myself while gazing. But, eternal
gods! as soon as I imagined this Arachne in marble or chryselephantine
work, what a painful feeling overpowered me!"

"Of course!" he replied in an irritated tone. "The thirst for beauty, to
which you all succumb, would not have much satisfaction to expect from
this work."

"No, no, no!" Daphne interrupted in a louder tone than usual, and with
the earnest desire to convince him. "Precisely because I transported
myself into your tendency, your aspirations, I recognised the danger.
O Hermon! what produced so sinister an effect by the wavering light of
the lamps and torches, while the thunderstorm was rising--the strands of
hair, the outspread fingers, the bewildered, staring blue eyes--do you
not feel yourself how artificial, how unnatural it all was? This
transformation was only a clever trick of acting, nothing more. Before a
quiet spectator, in the pure, truthful light of Apollo, the foe of all
deception, what would this Arachne probably become? Even now--I have
already said so--when I imagine her executed in marble or in gold and
ivory! Beauty? Who would expect to find in the active, constantly
toiling weaver, the mortal daughter of an industrious dyer in purple, the
calm, refreshing charm of divine women? I at least am neither foolish
nor unjust enough to do so. The degree of beauty Althea possesses would
entirely satisfy me for the Arachne. But when I imagine a plastic work
faithful to the model of yesterday evening--though I have seen a great
deal with my own eyes, and am always ready to defer to riper judgment--
I would think, while looking at it: This statue came to the artist from
the stage, but never from Nature. Such would be my view, and I am not
one of the initiated. But the adepts! The King, with his thorough
connoisseurship and fine taste, my father, and the other famous judges,
how much more keenly they would perceive and define it!"

Here she hesitated, for the blood had left Hermon's cheeks, and she saw
with surprise the deep impression which the candid expression of her
opinion had produced upon the artist, usually so independent and disposed
to contradiction. Her judgment had undoubtedly disturbed, nay, perhaps
convinced him; but at the same time his features revealed such deep
depression that, far from rejoicing in so rare a success, she patted his
arm like an affectionate sister, saying: "You have not yet found time to
realize calmly what yesterday dazzled us all--and you," she added in a
lower tone, "the most strongly."

"But now," he murmured sadly, half to himself, half to, her, "my vision
is doubly clear. Close before the success of which I dreamed failure and
bitter disappointment."

"If this 'doubly' refers to your completed work, and also to the
Arachne," cried Daphne in the affectionate desire to soothe him,
"a pleasant surprise will perhaps soon await you, for Myrtilus judges
your Demeter much more favourably than you yourself do, and he also
betrayed to me whom it resembles."

She blushed slightly as she spoke, and, as her companion's gloomy face
brightened for a short time, went on eagerly: "And now for the Arachne.
You will and must succeed in what you so ardently strive to accomplish,
a subject so exactly adapted to your magnificent virile genius and so
strangely suited to the course which your art has once entered upon.
And you can not fail to secure the right model. You had not found it in
Althea, no, certainly not! O Hermon! if I could only make you see clearly
how ill suited she, in whom everything is false, is to you--your art,
your only too powerful strength, your aspiration after truth--"

"You hate her," he broke in here in a repellent tone; but Daphne dropped
her quiet composure, and her gray eyes, usually so gentle, flashed
fiercely as she exclaimed: "Yes, and again yes! From my inmost soul I
do, and I rejoice in it. I have long disliked her, but since yesterday I
abhor her like the spider which she can simulate, like snakes and toads,
falsehood and vice."

Hermon had never seen his uncle's peaceful daughter in this mood. The
emotions that rendered this kindly soul so unlike itself could only be
the one powerful couple, love and jealousy; and while gazing intently at
her face, which in this moment seemed to him as beautiful as Dallas
Athene armed for battle, he listened breathlessly as she continued:
"Already the murderous spider had half entangled you in her net. She
drew you out into the tempest--our steward Gras saw it--in order, while
Zeus was raging, to deliver you to the wrath of the other gods also and
the contempt of all good men; for whoever yields himself to her she
destroys, sucks the marrow from his bones like the greedy harpies, and
all that is noble from his soul."

"Why, Daphne," interrupted Chrysilla, raising herself from her cushions
in alarm, "must I remind you of the moderation which distinguishes the
Greeks from the barbarians, and especially the Hellenic woman--"

Here Daphne indignantly broke in: "Whoever practises moderation in the
conflict against vice has already gone halfway over to evil. She utterly
ruined--how long ago is it?--the unfortunate Menander, my poor Ismene's
young husband. You know them both, Hermon. Here, of course, you
scarcely heard how she lured him from his wife and the lovely little girl
who bears my name. She tempted the poor fellow to her ship, only to cast
him off at the end of a month for another. Now he is at home again, but
he thinks Ismene is the statue from the Temple of Isis, which has gained
life and speech; for he has lost his mind, and when I saw him I felt as
if I should die of horror and pity. Now she is coming home with Proclus,
and, as the way led through Pelusium, she attached herself to our friends
and forces herself in here with them. What does she care about her
elderly travelling companion? But you--yes, you, Hermon--are the next
person whom she means to capture. Just now, when my eyes closed But no!
It is not only in my dreams; the hideous gray threads which proceed from
this greedy spider are continually floating before me and dim the light."
Here she paused, for the maid Stephanion announced the coming of
visitors, and at the same time loud voices were heard outside, and the
merry party who had been attending the breakfast given by the commandant
of Pelusium entered the tent.

Althea was among the guests, but she took little notice of Hermon.

Proclus, her associate in Queen Arsinoe's favour, was again asserting his
rights as her travelling companion, and she showed him plainly that the
attention which he paid her was acceptable.

Meanwhile her eager, bright blue eyes were roving everywhere, and nothing
that was passing around her escaped her notice.

As she greeted Daphne she perceived that her cheeks had flushed during
her conversation with Hermon.

How reserved and embarrassed the sculptor's manner was now to his uncle's
daughter, whom only yesterday he had treated with as much freedom as
though she were his sister! What a bungler in dissimulation! how short-
sighted was this big, strong man and remarkable artist! He had carried
her, Althea, in his arms like a child for a whole quarter of an hour at
the festival of Dionysus, and, in spite of the sculptor's keen eye, he
did not recognise her again!

What would not dyes and a change of manner accomplish!

Or had the memory of those mad hours revived and caused his
embarrassment? If he should know that her companion, the Milesian Nanno,
whom he had feasted with her on oyster pasties at Canopus after she had
given the slip to her handsome young companion was Queen Arsinoe!
Perhaps she would inform him of it some day if he recognised her.

Yet that could scarcely have happened. He had only been told what she
betrayed to him yesterday, and was now neglecting her for Daphne's sake.
That was undoubtedly the way the matter stood. How the girl's cheeks
were glowing when she entered!

The obstacle that stood between her and Hermon was the daughter of
Archias, and she, fool that she was, had attracted Hermon's attention to
her.

No matter!

He would want her for the Arachne, and she needed only to stretch out her
hand to draw him to her again if she found no better amusement in
Alexandria. Now she would awaken his fears that the best of models would
recall her favour. Besides, it would not do to resume the pleasant game
with him under the eyes of Philippus and his wife, who was a follower of
the manners of old times. The right course now was to keep him until
later.

Standing at Proclus's side, she took part gaily in the general
conversation; but when Myrtilus and Philemon had joined the others, and
Daphne had consented to go with Philippus and Thyone that evening, in
order, after offering sacrifice together to Selene, to sail for Pelusium,
Althea requested the grammateus to take her, into the open air.

Before leaving the tent, however, she dropped her ostrich-feather
fan as she passed Hermon, and, when he picked it up, whispered with a
significant glance at Daphne, "I see that what was learned of her heart
is turned to account promptly enough."

Then, laughing gaily, she continued loudly enough to be heard by her
companion also: "Yesterday our young artist maintained that the Muse
shunned abundance; but the works of his wealthy friend Myrtilus
contradicted him, and he changed his view with the speed of lightning."

"Would that this swift alteration had concerned the direction of his
art," replied Proclus in a tone audible to her alone.

Both left the tent as he spoke, and Hermon uttered a sigh of relief
as he looked after them. She attributed the basest motives to him,
and Daphne's opinion of her was scarcely too severe.

He no longer needed to fear her power of attraction, though, now that he
had seen her again, he better understood the spell which she had exerted
over him. Every movement of her lithe figure had an exquisite grace,
whose charm was soothing to the artist's eye. Only there was something
piercing in her gaze when it did not woo love, and, while making the base
charge, her extremely thin lips had showed her sharp teeth in a manner
that reminded him of the way the she-wolf among the King's wild beasts in
the Paneum gardens raised her lips when any one went near her cage.

Daphne was right. Ledscha would have been infinitely better as a model
for the Arachne. Everything in this proud creature was genuine and
original, which was certainly not the case with Althea. Besides, stern
austerity was as much a part of the Biamite as her hair and her hands,
yet what ardent passion he had seen glow in her eyes! The model so long
sought in vain he had found in Ledscha, who in so many respects resembled
Arachne. Fool that he was to have yielded to a swift and false
ebullition of feeling!

Since Myrtilus was again near him Hermon had devoted himself with fresh
eagerness to his artistic task, while a voice within cried more and more
loudly that the success of his new work depended entirely upon Ledscha.
He must try to regain her as a model for the Arachne! But while
pondering over the "how," he felt a rare sense of pleasure when Daphne
spoke to him or her glance met his.

At first he had devoted himself eagerly to his father's old friends,
and especially to Thyone, and had not found it quite easy to remain firm
when, in her frank, kindly, cordial manner, she tried to persuade him to
accompany her and the others to Pelusium. Yet he had succeeded in
refusing the worthy couple's invitation. But when he saw Philotas, whose
resemblance to the King, his cousin, had just been mentioned by one of
the officers, become more and more eager in his attentions to Daphne,
and heard him also invited by Philippus to share the nocturnal voyage,
he felt disturbed, and could not conceal from himself that the uneasiness
which constantly obtained a greater mastery over him arose from the fear
of losing his friend to the young aristocrat.

This was jealousy, and where it flamed so hotly love could scarcely be
absent. Yet, had the shaft of Eros really struck him, how was it
possible that the longing to win Ledscha back stirred so strongly
within him that he finally reached a resolution concerning her?

As soon as the guests left Tennis he would approach the Biamite again.
He had already whispered this intention to Myrtilus, when he heard
Daphne's companion say to Thyone, "Philotas will accompany us, and on
this voyage they will plight their troth if Aphrodite's powerful son
accepts my sacrifice."

He involuntarily looked at the pair who were intended for each other,
and saw Daphne lower her eyes, blushing, at a whisper from the young
Macedonian.

His blood also crimsoned his cheeks, and when, soon after, he asked his
friend whether she cared for his companionship, and Daphne assented in
the most eager way, he said that he would share the voyage to Pelusium.
Daphne's eyes had never yet beamed upon him so gladly and graciously.
Althea was right. She must love him, and it seemed as if this conviction
awoke a new star of happiness in his troubled soul.

If Philotas imagined that he could pluck the daughter of Archias like a
ripe fruit from a tree, he would find himself mistaken.

Hermon did not yet exactly understand himself, only he felt certain that
it would be impossible to surrender Daphne to another, and that for her
sake he would give up twenty Ledschas, though he cherished infinitely
great expectations from the Biamite for his art, which hitherto had been
more to him than all else.

Everything that he still had to do in Tennis he could intrust to his
conscientious Bias, to Myrtilus, and his slaves.

If he returned to the city of weavers, he would earnestly endeavour to
palliate the offence which he had inflicted on Ledscha, and, if possible,
obtain her forgiveness. Only one thing detained him--anxiety about his
friend, who positively refused to share the night voyage.

He had promised his uncle Archias to care for him like a brother, and
his own kind heart bade him stay with Myrtilus, and not leave him to the
nursing of his very skilful but utterly unreliable body-servant, after
the last night had proved to what severe attacks of his disease he was
still liable.

Myrtilus, however, earnestly entreated him not to deprive himself on his
account of a pleasure which he would gladly have shared. There was
plenty of time to pack the statues. As for himself, nothing would do him
more good just now than complete rest in his beloved solitude, which, as
Hermon knew, was more welcome to him than the gayest society. Nothing
was to be feared for him now. The thunderstorm had purified the air,
and another one was not to be expected soon in this dry region. He had
always been well here in sunny weather. Storms, which were especially
harmful to him, never came at this season of the year.

Myrtilus secretly thought that Hermon's departure would be desirable,
because the slave Bias had confided to him what dangers threatened his
friend from the incensed Biamite husbands.

Finally, Myrtilus turned to the others and begged them not to let Hermon
leave Pelusium quickly.

When, at parting, he was alone with him, he embraced him and said more
tenderly than usual: "You know how easy it will be for me to depart from
life; but it would be easier still if I could leave you behind without
anxiety, and that would happen if the hymeneal hymns at your marriage
to Daphne preceded the dirges which will soon resound above my coffin.
Yesterday I first became sure that she loves you, and, much good as you
have in your nature, you owe the best to her."

Hermon clasped him in his arms with passionate affection, and after
confessing that he, too, felt drawn with the utmost power toward Daphne,
and urging him to anticipate complete recovery instead of an early death,
he held out his hand to his friend; but Myrtilus clasped it a long time
in his own, saying earnestly: "Only this one frank warning: An Arachne
like the model which Althea presented yesterday evening would deal the
past of your art a blow in the face. No one at Rhodes--and this is just
what I prize in you--hated imitation more, yet what would using the
Arachne on the pedestal for a model be except showing the world not how
Hermon, but how Althea imagines the hapless transformed mortal? Even if
Ledscha withdraws from you, hold fast to her image. It will live on in
your soul. Recall it there, free it from whatever is superfluous, supply
whatever it lacks, animate it with the idea of the tireless artist, the
mocking, defiant mortal woman who ended her life as the weaver of weavers
in the insect world, as you have so often vividly described her to me.
Then, my dear fellow, you will remain loyal to yourself, and therefore
also to the higher truth, toward which every one of us who labours
earnestly strives, and, myself included, there is no one who wields
hammer and chisel in Greece who could contest the prize with you."

CHAPTER XV.

When the sun was approaching the western horizon the travellers started.

Light mists veiled the radiant right eye of the goddess of heaven. The
blood of the contending spirits of light and darkness, which usually dyed
the west of Egypt crimson at the departure of the great sun god, to-day
vanished from sight.

The sultry air was damp and oppressive, and experienced old Philippus,
who had commanded a fleet of considerable size under the first Ptolemies,
agreed with the captain of the vessel, who pointed to several small dark
clouds under the silvery stratus, and expressed the fear that Selene
would hardly illumine the ship's course during the coming night.

But before the departure the travellers had offered sacrifices to the
foam-born Cyprian Aphrodite and the Dioscuri, the protectors of mariners,
and the conversation took the gayest turn.

In the harbour of the neighbouring seaport Tanis they went aboard of the
commandant's state galley, one of the largest and finest in the royal
fleet, where a banquet awaited them.

Cushions were arranged on the high poop, and the sea was as smooth as the
silver dishes in which viands were offered to the guests.

True, not a breath stirred the still, sultry air, but the three long
double ranks of rowers in the hold of the ship provided for her swift
progress, and if no contrary wind sprang up she would run into the
harbour of Pelusium before the last goblet was emptied.

Soon after the departure it seemed as if the captain of the little vessel
had erred in his prediction, for the moon burst victoriously through the
black clouds, only its shining orb was surrounded by a dull, glimmering
halo.

Doubtless many a guest longed for a cool breeze, but when the mixed wine
had moistened the parched tongues the talk gained fresh animation.

Every one did his or her part, for the point in question was to induce
Philippus and his wife to visit Alexandria again and spend some time
there as beloved guests with Daphne in her father's house or in the
palace of Philotas, who jestingly, yet with many reasons, contested the
honour with the absent Archias.

The old warrior had remained away from the capital for several years;
he alone knew why. Now the act which had incensed him and the offence
inflicted upon him were forgotten, and, having passed seventy four years,
he intended to ask the commander in chief once more for the retirement
from the army which the monarch had several times refused, in order, as
a free man, to seek again the city which in his present position he had
so long avoided.

Thyone, it is true, thought that her husband's youthful vigour rendered
this step premature, but the visit to Alexandria harmonized with her own
wishes.

Proclus eagerly sided with her. "To him," said the man of manifold
knowledge, who as high priest of Apollo was fond of speaking in an
instructive tone, "experience showed that men like Philippus, who solely
on account of the number of their years withdrew their services from the
state, felt unhappy, and, like the unused ploughshare, became prematurely
rusty. What they lacked, and what Philippus would also miss, was not
merely the occupation, which might easily be supplied by another, but
still more the habit of command. One who had had thousands subject to
his will was readily overcome by the feeling that he was going down hill,
when only a few dozen of his own slaves and his wife obeyed him."

This word aroused the mirth of old Philippus, who praised all the good
qualities of Macedonian wives except that of obedience, while Thyone
protested that during her more than forty years of married life her
husband had become so much accustomed to her complete submission than he
no longer noticed it. If Philippus should command her to-morrow to leave
their comfortable palace in Pelusium to accompany him to Alexandria,
where they possessed no home of their own, he would see how willingly she
obeyed him.

While speaking, her bright, clear eyes, which seemed to float in the deep
hollows sunk by age, sparkled so merrily in her wrinkled face that
Philippus shook his finger gaily at her and showed plainly how much
pleasure the jest of the old companion of his wanderings gave him.

Yet he insisted upon his purpose of not entering Alexandria again until
he had resigned his office, and to do this at present was impossible,
since he was bound just now, as if with chains, to the important frontier
fortress. Besides, there had probably been little change in the capital
since the death of his beloved old companion in arms and master, the late
King.

This assertion evoked a storm of contradiction, and even the younger
officers, who usually imposed severe restraint upon themselves in the
general's presence, raised their voices to prove that they, too, had
looked around the flourishing capital with open eyes.

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