'Noble artist of the Ephesian city, when wilt thou scan my features—say when—and in what part of this Temple may I linger that thy efforts may be complete?'
'I purpose to trouble thee but little, mighty priestess. I will come when thou art offering sacrifice at the altar, and gaze on thy splendour afar off. As it has been said, the painting is well-nigh finished. I have beheld thee often when I worshipped here. Thy lineaments are graven on my memory. When word is sent me I will come.'
'Well, it shall be quickly,' said she, adding, with a smile: 'Before my beauty fades, if any there be. Come to-morrow at the hour of sacrifice, and thou wilt see Saronia.'
When they had retired, she meditated within: 'What meaneth this strange proceeding? The affianced of Nika presenting the picture of Saronia to the Temple, and Chios to paint it. There is evil afloat. The stormy petrel skims the waves. I will find from Chios the meaning of this secret work. No good for me can come from the house of Venusta. Be patient, Saronia, and thou shalt learn all. I will contrive to speak with Chios. Out of his heart of love he will tell me all. His eyes looked into mine: his mind was pure and shaped towards me. Good Chios, I trust thee, but I will try thee.'
The next day when he arrived the Temple was full of song—white-robed priests and virgins stood around the altar offering their devotions, whilst the incense-cloud rose upward through the open roof like a morning mist hanging around the mountain.
He was seated in a nook of the Temple where great pillars hid him from view. He heard not the morning song nor saw the incense-cloud ascend; he saw but one object, and that was Saronia, with uplifted eyes filled with radiant mystery, beseeching Heaven, the loose drapery hanging in snowy folds around her form and falling to her feet.
One half-hour, with such intent as Chios had, was worth a lifetime to a meaner man. Every touch of the brush told, and ere the service ended he rested, and gazed passionately on her he loved so well.
The song sank down to a whisper and died, burying its harmonies among the mighty marble pillars. Priestesses and priests moved away, leaving Saronia alone at the great altar, looking like the goddess of the shrine. For a moment she was silent, standing like a statue of Scopas; then she beckoned Chios to come forward, and moved away from the flower-strewn altar to meet him. The eyes of the girl spoke love—softest, tenderest love—but the face of Chios was like the granite rock of Bolerium. He knew he faced the opening through which the priests had passed, and feared to smile. Her lips parted, and she said: