By degrees the placid influence of her friend calmed her perturbed spirit. "Philothea," she said, "I promise with solemn earnestness to tell you every action of my life, and every thought of my soul; but never ask me to repeat all I heard at Aspasia's dwelling. The words went through my heart like poisoned arrows."
"Nay," replied Philothea, smiling; "they have healed, not poisoned."
Eudora sighed, as she added, "When I came away, in anger and in shame, I heard that false man singing in mockery:
"Count me on the summer trees
Every leaf that courts the breeze;
Count me on the foamy deep
Every wave that sinks to sleep;
Then when you have numbered these,
Billowy tides and leafy trees,
Count me all the flames I prove,
All the gentle nymphs I love."
Philothea, how could you, who are so pure yourself, see so much clearer than I did the treachery of that bad man?"
The maiden replied, "Mortals, without the aid of experience, would always be aware of the presence of evil, if they sought to put away the love of it in their own hearts, and in silent obedience listened to the voice of their guiding spirit. Flowers feel the approach of storms, and birds need none to teach them the enmity of serpents. This knowledge is given to them as perpetually as the sunshine; and they receive it fully, because their little lives are all obedience and love."
"Then, dearest Philothea, you may well know when evil approaches. By some mysterious power you have ever known my heart better than I myself have known it. I now perceive that you told me the truth when you said I was not blinded by love, but by foolish pride. If it were not so, my feelings could not so easily have turned to hatred. I have more than once tried to deceive you, but you will feel that I am not now speaking falsely. The interview you witnessed was the first and only one I ever granted to Alcibiades."
Philothea freely expressed her belief in this assertion, and her joy that the real character of the graceful hypocrite had so soon been made manifest. Her thoughts turned towards Philæmon; but certain recollections restrained the utterance of his name. They were both silent for a few moments; and Eudora's countenance was troubled. She looked up earnestly in her friend's face, but instantly turned away her eyes, and fixing them on the ground, said, in a low and timid voice, "Do you think Philæmon can ever love me again?"
Philothea felt painfully embarrassed; for when she recollected how deeply Philæmon was enamoured of purity in women, she dared not answer in the language of hope.
While she yet hesitated, Dione came to say that her master required the attendance of Eudora alone in his apartment.