do, and I rejoice in it. I have long disliked her, but since yesterday I
abhor her like the spider which she can simulate, like snakes and toads,
falsehood and vice."

Hermon had never seen his uncle's peaceful daughter in this mood. The
emotions that rendered this kindly soul so unlike itself could only be
the one powerful couple, love and jealousy; and while gazing intently at
her face, which in this moment seemed to him as beautiful as Dallas
Athene armed for battle, he listened breathlessly as she continued:
"Already the murderous spider had half entangled you in her net. She
drew you out into the tempest--our steward Gras saw it--in order, while
Zeus was raging, to deliver you to the wrath of the other gods also and
the contempt of all good men; for whoever yields himself to her she
destroys, sucks the marrow from his bones like the greedy harpies, and
all that is noble from his soul."

"Why, Daphne," interrupted Chrysilla, raising herself from her cushions
in alarm, "must I remind you of the moderation which distinguishes the
Greeks from the barbarians, and especially the Hellenic woman--"

Here Daphne indignantly broke in: "Whoever practises moderation in the
conflict against vice has already gone halfway over to evil. She utterly
ruined--how long ago is it?--the unfortunate Menander, my poor Ismene's
young husband. You know them both, Hermon. Here, of course, you
scarcely heard how she lured him from his wife and the lovely little girl
who bears my name. She tempted the poor fellow to her ship, only to cast
him off at the end of a month for another. Now he is at home again, but
he thinks Ismene is the statue from the Temple of Isis, which has gained
life and speech; for he has lost his mind, and when I saw him I felt as
if I should die of horror and pity. Now she is coming home with Proclus,