The day arrived for the election of High Priestess of Diana, and, as was generally expected within the Temple, Saronia was chosen to occupy that exalted position. When the people heard of this they were amazed, for amongst them she was scarcely known, excepting for her kindly manner and beautiful presence. Few, if any, outside the Temple recognised in her any of those superior intellectual attainments which were expected in the person who undertook the highest and most sacred duties of the Temple. Consequent on the election of a comparatively unknown girl, inquiries were numerous, asking who she was and whence she came, springing like a comet out of the gray depths of the sky; and when reply was made that she had been a slave to the wife of Lucius, many marvelled, and said it was the hand of the goddess who raised one of low degree to sit upon the golden throne; whilst among the noble families of Rome great curiosity was manifested to glean from her former mistress what she was like—what was thought of her; in fact, they wished to know all about the former slave. And thus, in a brief period, Saronia became the most notable person in all Ephesus and throughout Ionia, into Lydia, Caria, Pamphylia and Phrygia, and over the sea to Greece.
It was during this excitement Nika came to the studio of Chios. It was her first visit. Never did the girl look more beautiful. She greeted the artist with a smile, and sat down upon one of the lovely couches. Casting aside her richly-embroidered cloak, she revealed her snow-white garments clinging in folds around her graceful form. Her hair fell forward on either side, leaving an arched temple smooth as marble, and waved away over her ears till it was caught by an azure ribbon flecked with gold. Then she laughed a merry peal of laughter, and said:
'Art thou glad to see me?'
'I am, Nika. Thou bringest sunshine into the place. It lights up thy face and twinkles like stars in thy beautiful hair. One requires a cheerful sitter to make a good likeness, for, after all, the poor artist has only a few pigments to portray the loveliest of creatures.'
'Now, now, silence, flatterer! To business. How intendest thou to treat the subject which may represent me? Say, wilt thou paint me as Ariadne in Naxos?'
'No; the subject ill befits these joyous times. Ariadne lost her lover; thou hast gained one, and retainest him with chains of brass. I will paint thee as thou reclinest. Keep thou the cheerful mood, and Nika shall see how she looks when she is happy.'
'Must I not rearrange those wandering locks?'
'No; the light dances between the shadows like children at play. Let them remain.'
'Very well, Chios. Thou art an obliging man. I will do my best to remain as steady as Olympus. May I converse?'
'Freely, if thou pleasest.'