'You are ungrateful. Tell me, then, who is the fortunate virgin?'

'You shall hear, my Clodius. Several months ago I was sojourning at
Neapolis, a city utterly to my own heart, for it still retains the
manners and stamp of its Grecian origin--and it yet merits the name of
Parthenope, from its delicious air and its beautiful shores. One day I
entered the temple of Minerva, to offer up my prayers, not for myself
more than for the city on which Pallas smiles no longer. The temple was
empty and deserted. The recollections of Athens crowded fast and
meltingly upon me: imagining myself still alone in the temple, and
absorbed in the earnestness of my devotion, my prayer gushed from my
heart to my lips, and I wept as I prayed. I was startled in the midst of
my devotions, however, by a deep sigh; I turned suddenly round, and just
behind me was a female. She had raised her veil also in prayer: and
when our eyes met, methought a celestial ray shot from those dark and
smiling orbs at once into my soul. Never, my Clodius, have I seen
mortal face more exquisitely molded: a certain melancholy softened and
yet elevated its expression: that unutterable something, which springs
from the soul, and which our sculptors have imparted to the aspect of
Psyche, gave her beauty I know not what of divine and noble; tears were
rolling down her eyes. I guessed at once that she was also of Athenian
lineage; and that in my prayer for Athens her heart had responded to
mine. I spoke to her, though with a faltering voice--"Art thou not, too,
Athenian?" said I, "O beautiful virgin!" At the sound of my voice she
blushed, and half drew her veil across her face.--"My forefathers'
ashes," said she, "repose by the waters of Ilissus: my birth is of
Neapolis; but my heart, as my lineage, is Athenian."--"Let us, then,"
said I, "make our offerings together": and, as the priest now appeared,
we stood side by side, while we followed the priest in his ceremonial
prayer; together we touched the knees of the goddess--together we laid