"You utter nonsense!" said Aspasia, abruptly: "There is no immortality
but fame. In history, the star of my existence will never set--but shine
brilliantly and forever in the midst of its most glorious
constellation!"

After a brief pause, Philothea resumed: "But when men talk of Aspasia
the beautiful and the gifted, will they add, Aspasia the good--the
happy--the innocent?"

The last word was spoken in a low, emphatic tone. A slight quivering
about Aspasia's lips betrayed emotion crowded back upon the heart; while
Eudora bowed her head, in silent confusion, at the bold admonition of
her friend.

With impressive kindness, the maiden continued: "Daughter of Axiochus,
do you never suspect that the homage you receive is half made up of
selfishness and impurity? This boasted power of intellect--this giddy
triumph of beauty--what do they do for you? Do they make you happy in
the communion of your own heart? Do they bring you nearer to the gods?
Do they make the memory of your childhood a gladness, or a sorrow?"

Aspasia sank on the couch, and bowed her head upon her hands. For a few
moments, the tears might be seen stealing through her fingers; while
Eudora, with the ready sympathy of a warm heart, sobbed aloud.

Aspasia soon recovered her composure. "Philothea," she said, "you have
spoken to me as no one ever dared to speak; but my own heart has
sometimes uttered the truth less mildly. Yesterday I learned the same
lesson from a harsher voice. A Corinthian sailor pointed at this house,
and said, 'There dwells Aspasia, the courtezan, who makes her wealth by