of music, and a sky stretched about them from side to side, blue as
sapphire and shedding radiant light upon the city in its midst--a city
of fluted column and curving cornice and temple and arch and tomb. The
words rolled on, fierce and eager. It was a song of triumph, with war
and sorrow and mystery running beneath the sound of joy. And the child,
listening with grave, clear eyes, smiled a little, holding her breath.
"I see it--I see it!" She half whispered the words.

Achilles barely looked at her. "You see--ah, yes--you see. But I--I have
not words!" It was almost a cry.... "The air, so clear--like wine--and
the pillars straight and high and big--but light--light--reaching...."
His soul was among them, soaring high. Then it returned to earth and he
remembered the child.

"And there is an olive-tree," he said, kindly, "and a well where
Poseidon--"

"I've heard about the well and the olive-tree," said the child; "I don't
care so much about them. But all the rest--" She drew a quick breath.
"It is very beautiful. I knew it would be. I knew it would be!"

There was silence in the room.

"Thank you for telling me," said Betty Harris. "Now I must go." She
slipped from the chair with a little sigh. She stood looking about the
dim shop. "Now I must go," she repeated, wistfully.

Achilles moved a step toward the shelf. "Yes--but wait--I will show
you." He reached up to the box and took it down lightly. "I show you."
He was removing the cover.