“I am a fool, a fool!” he said savagely in Greek; “everything was going well, and I spoil all by letting my temper get the better of me. Why did I not let him admire Helena and say nothing? When we get to Melnos, that will be a different thing, for Justinian cannot go back from his word; and if I perform my part of the bargain, and bring this fool to Melnos, he must perform his, and give me his daughter. I must recover my lost ground if possible,—bah! it will not be difficult. I can see he is in love with Helena, so that will smooth everything. In love with my goddess!” he said ardently, gazing at the lovely face. “Ah, how can he help being so?—there is much excuse; but he can only worship you at a distance, my Venus, for you are mine—mine—mine!” He thrust the picture into his pocket, and, recovering his serene joyousness of mood, pondered for a few moments as to what was the best course to pursue. At last he decided, and walked towards the door of the studio with the air of a man who had made up his mind. “I will give him the picture,” he said, with a great effort, “and I feel sure he will make peace on those terms.” Maurice was sitting at his desk, wondering why the even-tempered Greek had thus given way to anger over the picture. “If he is engaged to a lady of Stamboul, he cannot be in love with this Helena,” he said to himself. “Perhaps he was jealous of my admiring the beauty of a woman more than his own. All Greeks are vain, but, as far as I can see, Caliphronas is simply mad with vanity. Come in.” In answer to his invitation, the Count entered smiling, and laid the picture on the desk before Maurice. “You must not be angry with me, my friend,” he said volubly; “I am like a child, and grow bad-tempered over nothing. This Helena is nothing to me, and, to prove this, I give you her portrait, which I do not care to keep. Come, am I forgiven?” “Of course you are,” said Roylands hastily; “and I will not deprive you of your picture.” “No, no, I do not want it back,” replied Caliphronas, spreading out his hands in token of refusal; “you love the face, so keep it by all means.” “She is very beautiful,” said Maurice, gazing longingly at this modern Helen. “Is she worth a journey to the East?” asked Caliphronas in a soft voice, like the sibilant hiss of a serpent. Maurice made no reply; he was looking at the portrait. CHAPTER X. A MODERN IXION. Oh, beware Of a snare! ’Tis a phantom fair Who will tangle your heart in her golden hair. Tho’ he vowed Would be bowed Heaven’s Hera proud, Ixion was duped by a treacherous cloud. But in sooth, Fate hath ruth, And this dream of youth May change from a dream to immutable truth.