"If I manage to finish this statue the future will be all my own, and some day my name will be engraved in the Forum, and the people of the city will read it with admiration. I will free myself from the pottery forever. I will present my statue to Sónnica, after it has been admired by all Saguntum in the Panathenæa, and your lover, who is so generous, will give me passage in one of her ships. I shall see Athens. I will admire what you have seen, and then—then! Look, Actæon, through these leaves. What do you see on the hill of the Acropolis? Nothing. Walls of great stones, columns, roofs of temples, but not a single statue to proclaim from afar the glory of the city. They say that upon the Acropolis of Athens rises the gigantic figure of Pallas, all of bronze and gold, with a lance that seems to burn in the sunlight, and that it guides the mariners like a flame from many stadia out at sea. Is that true? Many, many nights have I dreamt of something like that, and I see Erotion returned from Athens a great artist, and raising a colossal work upon our Acropolis. The bulls of Geryon, enormous, gigantic, with gilded horns shining like flames, and behind them Hercules, covered with the skin of the Nemean lion, like Theron, his priest, in the great festivals of Saguntum, and his club, menacing on the height, shall be a signal to all the navigators of the Sucronian gulf. Ah! If only some day I realize this achievement!"
Rhanto had come out of her hiding-place covered by a tunic, and she timidly approached Actæon, looking at him respectfully, and blushing at the same time at the recollection of the condition in which he had surprised her. Erotion, excited by the telling of his hopes, showed eagerness to resume his task. He glanced at his work, and seemed to disrobe the shepherdess with his eyes.
The Athenian understood that his presence disturbed the young people.
"Work, Erotion!" he said. "Be a great artist if you can. The sculptors of Athens would envy you your model. Now that I know that you hide here I will not again annoy you with my presence."
And so it was. He left the grove of fig trees permitting the two to work undisturbed in their mysterious retreat, Erotion spurred on by ambition, Rhanto submissive from love.
The day of the Panathenæa came at last.
The fame of the solemn festival had spread beyond the confines of Saguntum, and the rude Celtiberians assembled by caravans to witness the diversions of the rustic people.
The workers from the domain abandoned the labor of the harvest, and, dressed in their best, began streaming into the city at sunrise to attend the festival of the goddess of the fields. They carried great sheaves of wheat, interspersed with flowers, to offer to the goddess, and white fleeced lambs adorned with ribbons to sacrifice on her altar.
By sunrise the city was filled with a multicolored crowd which gathered in the Forum, or hurried along the river banks to see the horse races.
A great stadium had been formed near the Bætis-Perkes in which the principal citizens of Saguntum were to contest for the triumph. The senators, on long benches, and guarded by a group of mercenaries, presided over the festival. At one end of the race-track the sons of the merchants and rich agriculturists, the entire youth of Saguntum, almost nude, awaited the signal, leaning on their light lances, and holding the bridles of their barebacked horses which snorted and champed the bit, scenting the coming contest.