Never much considering that she was a subjective phenomenon vivified by
the weird influences of his descent and birthplace, the discovery of
her ghostliness, of her independence of physical laws and failings, had
occasionally given him a sense of fear. He never knew where she next
would be, whither she would lead him, having herself instant access to
all ranks and classes, to every abode of men. Sometimes at night he
dreamt that she was 'the wile-weaving Daughter of high Zeus' in person,
bent on tormenting him for his sins against her beauty in his art--the
implacable Aphrodite herself indeed. He knew that he loved the
masquerading creature wherever he found her, whether with blue eyes,
black eyes, or brown; whether presenting herself as tall, fragile, or
plump. She was never in two places at once; but hitherto she had never
been in one place long.

By making this clear to his mind some time before to-day, he had
escaped a good deal of ugly self-reproach. It was simply that she who
always attracted him, and led him whither she would as by a silken
thread, had not remained the occupant of the same fleshly tabernacle in
her career so far. Whether she would ultimately settle down to one he
could not say.

Had he felt that she was becoming manifest in Avice, he would have
tried to believe that this was the terminal spot of her migrations, and
have been content to abide by his words. But did he see the Well-
Beloved in Avice at all? The question was somewhat disturbing.

He had reached the brow of the hill, and descended towards the village,
where in the long straight Roman street he soon found the lighted hall.
The performance was not yet over; and by going round to the side of the