Nikander bent and kissed her, not quite able to speak. He determined that this daughter should never again lack his companionship. Then a swift stab of memory reminded him how soon she must be returned to the Pythia House, where he could see her not at all.
He sat down beside her.
Baltè, seeing that he was there to watch in her stead, hurried off on some errand.
Baltè was no sooner gone than Theria bent near him.
“Father,” she said in awed tones, “I was not ill. I was held in dumbness by what I saw in the mountain.”
“Yes, Daughter,” he responded.
“The god crossed my path. Phœbus Apollo. I saw him!”
Even though Nikander had guessed this, he was startled at her telling.
“Oh, Father, so living beautiful he was, with the dawn in his face and power shining from all of him! All the statues in the Precinct should be broken. They are not my god.”
“We must leave them,” said her father gently, “for those of us who cannot see.”