"Philothea!" she exclaimed, abruptly, "you have not told me where you met Alcibiades?"
The maiden looked up suddenly, like an infant startled from sweet dreams by some rude noise. Recovering from her surprise, she smiled, and said, "Eudora, your question came upon me like his unexpected and unwelcome presence in the sacred gardens. I told you that we stood by that quiet lake in meek reverence; worshipping,—not the marble image before us,—but the Spirit of Beauty, that glides through the universe, breathing the invisible through visible forms, in such mysterious harmony. Suddenly Eucoline touched my arm with a quick and timid motion. I turned and saw a young man gazing earnestly upon us. Our veils, which had been thrown back while we looked at the statue, were instantly dropped, and we hastily retraced our steps. The stranger followed us, until we passed under the shade of the olive grove, within sight of the Propylæa. He then knelt, and attempting to hold me by the robe, poured forth the wildest protestations of love. I called aloud for protection; and my voice was heard by the priests, who were passing in and out of the Acropolis, in busy preparation for the festival. The young man suddenly disappeared; but he was one of the equestrians that shared in the solemnities of the night, and I again saw him as I took my place in the procession. I had then never seen Alcibiades; but when I met him to-night, I immediately recognized the stranger who spoke so rudely in the olive-grove."
"You must forgive me," said Eudora, "if I am not much disposed to blame mortal man for wishing to look upon your face a second time. Even Plato does homage to woman's beauty."
"True, Eudora; but there is reverence mingled with his homage. The very atmosphere around Alcibiades seemed unholy. I never before met such a glance; and the gods grant I may never meet such another. I should not have mentioned the occurrence, even to you, had I not wished to warn you how lightly this volatile Athenian can make love."
"I heard something of this before," rejoined Eudora; "but I did not know the particulars."
"How could you have heard of it?" inquired Philothea, with an accent of strong surprise.
"Alcibiades had a more eager curiosity than yourself," replied Eudora. "He soon ascertained the name of the lovely Canephoræ that he saw in the Gardens of Urania; and he has never ceased importuning Aspasia, until you were persuaded to visit her house."
The face, neck, and arms of the modest maiden were flushed with indignant crimson. "Was it for this purpose," she said, "that I was induced to yield my own sense of propriety to the solicitations of Pericles? It is ever thus, when we disobey the gods, to please mortals. How could I believe that any motive so harmless as idle curiosity induced that seductive and dangerous woman to urge me into her unhallowed presence?"
"I marvelled at your courage in talking to her as you did," said Eudora.
"Something within impelled me," replied Philothea, reverently;—"I did not speak from myself."