"And hast thou followed thy profession from youth?"
"Yes, and I love it--am wedded to it for life."
"What meanest thou? Wilt thou never wed some sweet Ionian girl?"
"Never! As I tell thee, I am wedded to my art. I shall never wed again.
Why should I, seeing I love it dearly, as strongly as yonder priesthood love their faith and are content? So am I."
At this saying of Chios the beautiful mouth of the Roman girl was slightly agitated, and her hand closed tightly on an almond flower, and its petals fell to the ground.
Then came Lucius and his wife, and all joined in pleasant gossip. Varro spoke proudly of Rome, and Lucius of Britain, and the time sped on. The young n.o.ble left, but Chios remained.
Nika was ill at ease, her mind was a storm, and, throwing a mantle over her shoulders, she said playfully:
"Come, Chios; take me to the balcony, that we may breathe the fresh night air."
She was impatient to get at the mind of the Greek. Quick-sighted, she had already read the mind of the Roman. What did she care? She would be bold.
"Chios, why didst thou say thou wilt never wed? Is it really so?"
"Yes, Nika, it is true."
"Chios, we have known each other long, and have been more than friends.
We have been like children of one mother! Thou hast ever spoken freely and kindly to me, and I would ask thee one question--one little question--that is all."
"Say on, Nika."
"Didst thou ever love?"
"I may have."
"I thought so much," replied she; "and where is that love? Does it live on, or is it--dead?"
"It lives, but I am trying to kill it."
"Wouldst thou be a murderer, Chios?"
"No, I mean well."
"Tell me thy secret, and I will bury it in the grave of my heart.
Whom--dost--thou--love?"
"I cannot tell thee, but she is not a Roman."
"Then I _know_--it is Saronia. Let me lean upon thy arm, Chios. Lead me within--the night is chill."
CHAPTER VIII
PAYING THEIR VOWS
From morn to eve great songs of praise and adoration went up before the shrine of Diana, and soft music echoed through the great Temple, sometimes swelling like the martial notes of the Persian hosts when they marched through the vales of Ionia to Abydos, and then sweet melodies sank back into the faintest strains, like a weeping lute or the sighs of a broken heart.
Those plaintive sounds suited one spirit, and that one was the storm-clad soul of Saronia. She had seen her old master on his arrival at Ephesus; he had done her no harm, and her heart went out towards him that she might speak and thank him for his kindness. After all, she had the true instinct of a woman, and must love something: she loved the G.o.ddess, but she had a spiritual and a human existence, and both must love. True, her nature was somewhat seared, battling as she had done for existence. There was a time when a kiss, a simple kiss, would have thrilled her very soul; but that was long ago. Since those happy times she had hardened herself against the world--the cold, selfish world made her so. But a nature with true instinctive love cannot long remain in such a state when conditions change; and now Saronia was coming to her former self, removed from the world and surrounded by those who really loved her. Her heart softened, and she felt a keen affection for Lucius.
There were but two men in the teeming millions of the world she cared for; of those two, one had been pa.s.sively kind, the other an active friend. The latter was Chios, of whom she dared not think. No, she could not even breathe a sigh o"er the remembrances of him, for fear a smouldering dead past might break into a living flame. All this she knew--knew it now when she had pa.s.sed from death to life, when the night had fled and the day dawned; so she conjured up a mighty gulf between her and the Greek, a gulf over which she would not pa.s.s, neither could he come unto her. But of Lucius she felt no fear, and this is the distinction between friendship and love.
Lucius was to visit the Temple of Diana to render thanks for her protecting grace to him whilst he had been battling with many storms; and his mariners had promised a votive offering to the G.o.ddess when the winds whistled through the cordage and the waves tossed their ship until it reeled and staggered like a drunken man. And now they came to fulfil their vows. This was not a vain show. Those sons of the ocean had warm hearts, and would lay them there before the shrine. Neither did Lucius desire pomp or show; he would come with his men and worship simply, manly. So, when the sun was low and the winds were hushed, they drew nigh and bowed before the altar, and, offering their libations, whispered forth their prayers. Around the flower-strewn altar stood the priests and priestesses. The chanting songs went upward in deep sonorous rhythm, and as the sacred hymn died out in echoes through the columned sanctuary, the toilers of the sea bent low and sang:
Thanks to Thee, O Lady Saviour.
Thanks to Thee, O great Dispenser.
Mercy have, and keep us lowly In the hollow of Thine hand.
Hail! O hail! Thou mighty Mother.
Hail! Thou Giver of all good.
Mercy have and keep us lowly, Ever bring us safe to Thee.
Then in deep unison priests and mariners joined in one grand anthem of thanksgiving, and cheeks were wet with the tears of men whose sinews were like iron, and whose hearts were proof against fear.
When they moved away, Lucius looked lovingly towards the shrine, and beheld Saronia, with her robe of purest white, standing in bold relief against the rich colour of the great veil which hid the statue of the G.o.ddess from their view; and their eyes met, and from her came a look of sweetest thanks, filling his soul with unfathomable calm, and he knew their hearts were tuned in strange resemblance, and that the priestess of Diana would offer prayer for him whether he dwelt in his lovely home or paced the p.o.o.p of his lofty ship when the gale grew loud and the storm-birds flew.
For a while stillness reigned, and the priests and priestesses were alone, singing their evening hymns; the great censor swung, and the burning incense filled the Temple with odour. Then they pa.s.sed through the portals to their rest, and the Temple watchers stood at the gates and kept guard within the Parabolus walls.
The dark eyes of Saronia were filled with tears of joy, for she had seen Lucius; she was at peace, though the sun had set and the shadows fell.
And thus peace cometh to the mind of the tempest-tossed, but such a being as Saronia could not long sustain it. Her soul was a spirit in chase, pursuing something undefinable which she longed to obtain, that she might be for ever satisfied and her measure of happiness complete. A calm to her was like a summer day in winter-time, the harbinger of coming storm.
CHAPTER IX
THE STUDIO OF CHIOS
The studio of Chios was very beautiful, and an artist is pretty well known by the place in which he paints, provided he has means to gratify his tastes. It was not a great room filled with materials, leaving him just a dozen square feet to walk about, but a studio of ample proportions, and kept as it should be with s.p.a.ce to move around. Nothing of it could be seen from the road, for great cl.u.s.ters of myrtle-trees, gigantic rose-bushes, and crimson oleanders hid it most effectually; but those of his friends who went that way knew when they had pa.s.sed through the quiet gateway and between the flower-trees that not far away was one of the sweetest little studios in Ephesus. Yes, there it was close to the pond of water-lilies, with the bees humming from blossom to blossom, and the birds singing cheerfully from the foliage which surrounded it; the birds were quite tame, for Chios was kind to them, and some would light upon his shoulders, and others on his arm.
A few steps led up to the marble portico, with its ceiling of blue decked with little silver stars and a crescent moon. At the entrance stood two small statues by Euphranor and Phidias.
Within all was beauty: the studio, circular in form, with alcoves lit with light which filtered in through the thinnest sheets of coloured marble; the furniture, simple, but choice; a kline or two of cedar-wood, enriched with gold, to recline on when weary; a few chairs of ebony, cypress, and rosewood were placed in the alcoves; a marble thronos for his sitters; a few small tables, three-legged and four-legged, beautifully carved, stood about to hold his brushes and palettes and the choicest flowers, which a good old servant brought him every morning.
These things, with his easels, made up the contents of his studio. It was not so famous for its furniture as for the beauty of its construction, with domed roof and circular opening to the sky, and its floor of marble enriched with precious stones. For Chios was wealthy, and could lavish money as he pleased in decorating his studio.
Behind this working-room were retiring-rooms, and a small but valuable library of choice ma.n.u.scripts by Callinus, the Elegiac poet; Batalus, the musician; Dion, Andron, Delias, and Daphnus, the philosophers; with works by Phavorinus, Zenodotus, Menander, and many others.