Between two clumps of rose bushes stood an image of Priapos carved from the trunk of a tree. The rustic god was smiling with a lewd expression, arching his hairy breast and thrusting his abdomen forward.
Sónnica smiled on seeing the Athenian looking at him.
"You know that it is an ancient custom to place the gardens under the protection of Priapos," said Sónnica. "They say that he frightens away thieves. My slaves believe it firmly, and I keep the god as a symbol of life in the midst of these roses, which are as beautiful as those of Pæstum. The allurements of Priapos complete the sweet charm of abounding Nature."
The two Greeks walked on in silence, with slow step, along an avenue of slender cypresses at the end of which opened a grotto, its rocky walls draped with ivy, allowing a greenish, diffused light to filter through its openings. A white cupid spilled from a shell a stream of water like tender falling tear-drops, caught in an alabaster basin. There the luxurious Sónnica spent the warmer part of the day.
Actæon was conscious of a soft, warm touch upon his shoulder.
"Sónnica!"
Caressing her around her gold-encircled waist, her white and satiny arms knotted themselves responsive about his neck like ivory serpents; her head fell upon the shoulder of the Greek, who, looking down, saw fixed upon him a pair of violet eyes moist with ecstatic emotion.
"You are Athens come back to me!" She murmured sweetly, with bated breath. "When I met you this morning on the steps of Aphrodite's temple I thought you must be Apollo descended to earth. I felt the Olympian fire, impossible to resist. Long have I scorned love, but at last the little god is avenged, and—and—I love you!"
Like a soft glow the beauty of the Greek shone in the twilight of the grotto.
Nine guests were bidden to Sónnica's banquet, and as night closed in they came, some in chariots, others mounted on gaily caparisoned horses, passing between rows of slaves holding lighted torches.