His own act was abominable in his eyes, and yet he would have done it
again to-morrow, if it had again been required of him under similar
circumstances. He bewailed the beautiful statue as a lost treasure of
art; but he felt that it was indispensable that it should perish out of
the world. And at the same time he thought of Gorgo, wondering how she
--who had only the day before pledged herself to him, whom he loved with
fervent passion, to whom, as he well knew, his faith was something
monstrous in its contempt for beauty--would bear to learn that he, her
lover, was the man who, like some coarse barbarian, had defaced this
noble work and ruined this vision of beauty, no less dear to him than it
was to her. Still, as he sat brooding and searching the very depths of
his soul, he could not help feeling that he had certainly acted rightly
and would do the same again, even at the risk of losing her. To him
Gorgo, was the noblest of God's creatures, and how could he have borne to
go through life at her side with a stain on his honor? But he did not
conceal from himself the fact that his deed had opened a wide gulf
between them; and it was with deep pathos that his thoughts recurred to
the antique conception of tragedy--of fate which pursues its innocent
victims as though they were guilty. This day perhaps would witness the
sunset of his life's joy, would drive him forth once more to war--to
fight, and do nothing but fight, till death should meet him on the
battle-field. And as he sat there his eyes grew dim and heavy and his
head fell on his heaving breast.

Suddenly he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and turning round, he saw
Gorgo standing with her hand outstretched; he started to his feet, seized
it with eager passion and looking sadly into the young girl's eyes said,
with deep emotion:

"I would I might hold this hand forever--but you will leave me, you will