Ask mother. Even Dada's eyes were full of tears."

"Yes, it was beautiful," the mother agreed. "I could not help wishing
that you were there."

Karnis rose and paced the little room, waving his arms and muttering:

"Ah! so that is how it is! A friend of the Muses. We saved the large
lute--that is well. My chlamys has an ugly hole in it--if the girls were
not asleep... but the first thing to-morrow Ague... Tell me, is she
handsome, tall?"

Herse had been watching her excitable husband with much satisfaction and
now answered his question: "Not a Hera--not a Muse--decidedly not.
Hardly above the middle height, slightly made, but not small, black eyes,
long lashes, dark straight eyebrows. I could hardly, like Orpheus, call
her beautiful. . ."

"Oh yes, mother.--Beautiful is a great word, and one my father has taught
me to use but rarely; but she--if she is not beautiful who is?--when she
raised her large dark eyes and threw back her head to bring out her
lament; tone after tone seemed to come from the bottom of her heart and
rise to the furthest height of heaven. Ah, if Agne could learn to sing
like that! 'Throw your whole soul into your singing.'--You have told her
that again and again. Now, Gorgo can and does. And she stood there as
steady and as highly strung as a bow, every note came out with the ring
of an arrow and went straight to the heart, as clear and pure as
possible."

"Be silent!" cried the old man covering his ears with his hands.