Arbaces. 'But that is not all: she has a soul worthy to match with mine.
She has a genius beyond that of woman--keen--dazzling--bold. Poetry
flows spontaneous to her lips: utter but a truth, and, however intricate
and profound, her mind seizes and commands it. Her imagination and her
reason are not at war with each other; they harmonize and direct her
course as the winds and the waves direct some lofty bark. With this she
unites a daring independence of thought; she can stand alone in the
world; she can be brave as she is gentle; this is the nature I have
sought all my life in woman, and never found till now. Ione must be
mine! In her I have a double passion; I wish to enjoy a beauty of
spirit as of form.'

'She is not yours yet, then?' said the priest.

'No; she loves me--but as a friend--she loves me with her mind only.
She fancies in me the paltry virtues which I have only the profounder
virtue to disdain. But you must pursue with me her history. The brother
and sister were young and rich: Ione is proud and ambitious--proud of
her genius--the magic of her poetry--the charm of her conversation.
When her brother left me, and entered your temple, in order to be near
him she removed also to Pompeii. She has suffered her talents to be
known. She summons crowds to her feasts; her voice enchants them; her
poetry subdues. She delights in being thought the successor of Erinna.'

'Or of Sappho?'

'But Sappho without love! I encouraged her in this boldness of
career--in this indulgence of vanity and of pleasure. I loved to steep
her amidst the dissipations and luxury of this abandoned city. Mark me,
Calenus! I desired to enervate her mind!--it has been too pure to