In simple, truthful words she reproached him for having neglected her
to the verge of incivility the evening before, but there was no trace of
bitterness or resentment in the accusation, and she gave Hermon little
time for apology, but quickly gladdened him with words of forgiveness.

In the opinion of her companion Chrysilla, Daphne ought to have kept the
capricious artist waiting much longer for pardon. True, the cautious
woman took no part in the conversation afterward, but she kept her charge
in sight while she was skilfully knotting the fringe into a cloth which
she had woven herself. On account of her favourite Philotas, it was well
for Daphne to be aware that she was watched.

Chrysilla was acquainted with life, and knew that Eros never mingles more
arbitrarily in the intercourse of a young couple than when, after a long
separation, there is anything whatever to forgive.

Besides, many words which the two exchanged escaped her hearing, for they
talked in low tones, and it was hot in the tent. Often the fatigue she
felt after the sleepless night bowed her head, still comely with its
unwrinkled face, though she was no longer young; then she quickly raised
it again.

Neither Daphne nor Hermon noticed her. The former at once perceived that
something was weighing on the sculptor's mind, but he did not need any
long inquiry. He had come to confide his troubles to her, and she kindly
lightened the task for him by asking why he had not gone to breakfast
with the Pelusinians.

"Because I am not fit for gay company today," was the reply.