“No, Ledscha, no,” Hermon protested. “Every power ceases with death, even that of the sorceress over spirits. You shall be freed, poor woman! You will be permitted to go wherever you desire; and I shall model no spider after your person, but the fairest of women. Thousands will see and admire her, and--if the Muse aids me--whoever, enraptured by her beauty, asks, ‘Who was the model for this work which inflames the most obdurate heart?’ will be told, ‘It was Ledscha, the daughter of Shalit, the Biamite, whom Hermon of Alexandria found worthy of carving in costly marble.” Ledscha uttered a deep sigh of relief, and asked: “Is that true? May I believe it?” “As true,” he answered warmly, “as that Selene, who promised to grant you in her full radiance the greatest happiness, is now shedding her mild, forgiving light upon us both.” “The full moon,” she murmured softly, gazing upward at the shining disk. Then she added in a louder tone: “Old Tabus’s demons promised me happiness--you know. It was the spider which so cruelly shadowed it for me on every full moon, every day, and every night. Will you now swear to model a statue from me, the statue of a beautiful human being that will arouse the delight of all who see it? Delight--do you hear?--not loathing--I ask again, will you?” “I will, and I shall succeed,” he said earnestly, holding out his hand across the rope. She clasped it, looked up to the full moon again, and whispered: “This time--I will believe it--you will keep your promise better than when you were in Tennis. And I--I will cease to wish you evil, and I will tell you why. Bend your ear nearer, that I may confess it openly.” Hermon willingly obeyed the request, but she leaned her head against his, and he felt her laboured breathing and the warm tears that coursed silently down her cheeks as she said, in a low whisper: “Because the moon is full, and will yet bring me what the demons promised, and because, though strong, I am still a woman. Happiness! How long ago I ceased to expect it!--but now-yes, it is what I now feel! I am happy, and yet can not tell why. My love--oh, yes! It was more ardent than the burning hate. Now you know it, too, Hermon. And I--I shall be free, you say? And Tabus, how she lauded rest--eternal rest! Oh dearest--this sorely tortured heart, too--you can not even imagine how weary I am!” Here she was silent, but the man into whose face she was gazing with loving devotion felt a sudden movement at his side as she uttered the exclamation. He did not notice it, for the sweet tone of her voice was penetrating the inmost depths of his heart. It sounded as though she was speaking from the happiest of dreams.