A Thorny Path | Page 9

dead one could bind him any longer. And
his adventure, so far as it concerned the house of Seleukus, ended with
that kiss; for the lady Berenike had presently waked, and urged him to
finish the portrait at his own house.
Next morning he had completed it with the help of the Galatea in the
villa at Kanopus, and he had heard a great deal about the dead maiden.
A young woman who was left in charge of the villa had supplied him
with whatever he needed. Her pretty face was swollen with weeping,
and it was in a voice choked with tears that she had told him that her
husband, who was a centurion in Caesar's pretorian guard, would arrive

to-morrow or next day at Alexandria, with his imperial master. She had
not seen him for a long time, and had an infant to show him which he
had not yet seen; and yet she could not be glad, for her young mistress's
death had extinguished all her joy.
"The affection which breathed in every word of the centurion's wife,"
Alexander said, "helped me in my work. I could be satisfied with the
result.
"The picture is so successful that I finished that for Seleukus in all
confidence, and for the sarcophagus I will copy it as well or as ill as
time will allow. It will hardly be seen in the half-dark tomb, and how
few will ever go to see it! None but a Seleukus can afford to employ so
costly a brush as your brother's is--thank the Muses! But the second
portrait is quite another thing, for that may chance to be hung next a
picture by Apelles; and it must restore to the parents so much of their
lost child as it lies in my power to give them. So, on my way, I made up
my mind to begin the copy at once by lamp-light, for it must be ready
by to-morrow night at latest.
"I hurried to my work-room, and my slave placed the picture on an
easel, while I welcomed my brother Philip who had come to see me,
and who had lighted a lamp, and of course had brought a book. He was
so absorbed in it that he did not observe that I had come in till I
addressed him. Then I told him whence I came and what had happened,
and he thought it all very strange and interesting.
"He was as usual rather hurried and hesitating, not quite clear, but
understanding it all. Then he began telling me something about a
philosopher who has just come to the front, a porter by trade, from
whom he had heard sundry wonders, and it was not till Syrus brought
me in a supper of oysters--for I could still eat nothing more solid--that
he asked to see the portrait.
"I pointed to the easel, and watched him; for the harder he is to please,
the more I value his opinion. This time I felt confident of praise, or
even of some admiration, if only for the beauty of the model.

"He threw off the veil from the picture with a hasty movement, but,
instead of gazing at it calmly, as he is wont, and snapping out his sharp
criticisms, he staggered backward, as though the noonday sun had
dazzled his sight. Then, bending forward, he stared at the painting,
panting as he might after racing for a wager. He stood in perfect silence,
for I know not how long, as though it were Medusa he was gazing on,
and when at last he clasped his hand to his brow, I called him by name.
He made no reply, but an impatient 'Leave me alone!' and then he still
gazed at the face as though to devour it with his eyes, and without a
sound.
"I did not disturb him; for, thought I, he too is bewitched by the
exquisite beauty of those virgin features. So we were both silent, till he
asked, in a choked voice: 'And did you paint that? Is that, do you say,
the daughter that Seleukus has just lost?'
"Of course I said 'Yes'; but then he turned on me in a rage, and
reproached me bitterly for deceiving and cheating him, and jesting with
things that to him were sacred, though I might think them a subject for
sport.
"I assured him that my answer was as earnest as it was accurate, and
that every word of my story was true.
"This only made him more furious. I, too, began to get angry, and as he,
evidently deeply agitated, still persisted in saying that my picture could
not have been painted from the dead Korinna, I swore to him solemnly,
with the most sacred oath I could think