there, but had been so uncivilly rebuffed on the shore by a rough fellow
that he might be glad to have escaped with sound limbs. Lastly, he stole
to Ledscha's home, and, knowing that her father was absent, had ventured
as far as the open courtyard in the centre of the stately dwelling. The
dogs knew him, and as a light was shining from one of the rooms that
opened upon the courtyard, he peeped in and saw Taus, Ledscha's younger
sister. She was kneeling before the statue of a god at the back of the
room, weeping, while the old housekeeper had fallen asleep with the
distaff in her lap.

He called cautiously to the pretty child. She was awaiting the return of
her sister, who, she supposed, was still detained on the Owl's Nest by
old Tabus's predictions; she had sorrowful tidings for her.

The husband of her friend Gula had returned on his ship and learned that
his wife had gone to the Greek's studio. He had raged like a madman, and
turned the unfortunate woman pitilessly out of doors after sunset. Her
own parents had only been induced to receive her with great difficulty.
Paseth, the jealous husband, had spared her life and refrained from going
at once to kill the artist solely because Hermon had saved his little
daughter at his own peril from the burning house.

"Now," said Ledscha's pretty little sister, "it would also be known that
she had gone with Gula to his master, who was certainly a handsome man,
but for whom, now that young Smethis was wooing her, she cared no more
than she did for her runaway cat. All Tennis would point at her, and she
dared not even think what her father would do when he came home."

These communications had increased Hermon's anxiety.