sterner critics. Only because I desire their best good do I frankly
point out their errors. The multitude provides the praise. It will soon
flow upon you also in torrents, I can see its approach, and as this
blindness, if the august Aesculapius and healing Isis aid, will pass away
like a dreary winter night, it would seem to me criminal to deceive you
about your own ability and success. I already behold you creating other
works to the delight of gods and men; but this Demeter extorts boundless,
enthusiastic appreciation; both as a whole, and in detail, it is
faultless and worthy of the most ardent praise. Oh, how long it is,
my dear, unfortunate friend, since I could congratulate any other
Alexandrian with such joyful confidence upon the most magnificent
success! Every word--you may believe it!--which comes to you in
commendation of this last work from lips unused to eulogy is sincerely
meant, and as I utter it to you I shall repeat it in the presence of the
King, Archias, and the other judges."

Daphne, with hurried breath, deeply flushed cheeks, and sparkling eyes,
had fairly hung upon the lips of the clever connoisseur. She knew
Proclus, and his dreaded, absolutely inconsiderate acuteness, and was
aware that this praise expressed his deepest conviction. Had he been
dissatisfied with the statue of Demeter, or even merely superficially
touched by its beauty, he might have shrunk from wounding the unfortunate
artist by censure, and remained silent; but only something grand,
consummate, could lead him to such warmth of recognition.

She now felt it a misfortune that she and Thyone had hitherto been
prevented, by anxiety for their patient, from admiring his work. Had it
still been light, she would have gone to the temple of Demeter at once;
but the sun had just set, and Proclus was obliged to beg her to have
patience.