in thought. At last he drew back, covered it up again, and examined the
models which stood on a shelf fastened to the wall.

A small female figure particularly fixed his attention, and he was taking
it admiringly in his band when Polykarp awoke.

"That is the image of the goddess of fate--that is a Tyche," said Petrus.

"Do not be angry with me, father," entreated Polykarp. "You know, the
figure of a Tyche is to stand in the hand of the statue of the Caesar
that is intended for the new city of Constantine, and so I have tried to
represent the goddess. The drapery and pose of the arms, I think, have
succeeded, but I failed in the head." Petrus, who had listened to him
with attention, glanced involuntarily at the head of Sirona, and Polykarp
followed his eyes surprised and almost startled.

The father and son had understood each other, and Polykarp said, "I had
already thought of that."

Then he sighed bitterly, and said to himself, "Yes and verily, she is
the goddess of my fate." But he dared not utter this aloud.

But Petrus had heard him sigh, and said, "Let that pass. This head
smiles with sweet fascination, and the countenance of the goddess that
rules the actions even of the immortals, should be stern and grave."

Polykarp could contain himself no longer.

"Yes, father," he exclaimed. "Fate is terrible--and yet I will represent
the goddess with a smiling mouth, for that which is most terrible in her