“Do you know,” went on Eëtíon in a low voice, “I thought she was a goddess the first time I saw her. I really did. It was in the Precinct of Athena. I was weeping aloud with misery because my work of four years was brought to naught and I was pushed back into slavery, for I had been long in bondage. And Theria came leaping down the hill in the morning light. She spoke to me. (Oh, such wonderful kindness to which I had long been a stranger.) Then afterward, O Nikander, she saved me. Braving all sorts of punishment, she saved me. Could a man have done more than that? Is it any wonder that I love her?” Nikander felt it his duty to dissuade the youth from a love so hopeless—but he suddenly had no word to say. That love seemed so sweet and right and pure. He was proud that this daughter of his had called it forth. The youth went on: “We of Argos are worshippers of Hera. There is a saying among us that the ‘Souls who follow Hera desire a love of royal quality.’ Hera cherishes the lawful union of man and woman.” Nikander’s head bowed lower. He had forgotten this further obstacle that Eëtíon was a metic. The union was impossible. From every side, impossible. With grieving face Nikander turned and left Eëtíon where he stood. CHAPTER XXXV THERIA TELLS HER VISION Nikander’s care was now to save as much of his household treasure as might be. Before this time his anxiety over his children had so beset him that he cared little whether anything else was saved or not. But now he set slaves to packing the family records, the old Nikander drinking vessels of gold and silver, and the stores of corn, oil, and wine. Theria’s storeroom soon bore a changed aspect. Then the most faithful slaves he sent with these things up into the mountain to the Korykian cave. But even with this business Nikander found time to go ever and again to Theria’s bedside to stop perhaps but for a single caress or word or question. Theria was sitting up in her couch and keeping poor Baltè busy running for this and that to occupy her. “Father!” she said, holding up her five fingers brightly as he came toward her. “This is the fifth time you have come to me. I have counted.” “Bless your heart, child, why do you count my visits?” “Because they are my treasures,” she answered. “I used to see you only twice in the day and the time between was so long and stupid.” Nikander bent and kissed her, not quite able to speak. He determined that this daughter should never again lack his companionship. Then a swift stab of memory reminded him how soon she must be returned to the Pythia House, where he could see her not at all. He sat down beside her. Baltè, seeing that he was there to watch in her stead, hurried off on some errand. Baltè was no sooner gone than Theria bent near him. “Father,” she said in awed tones, “I was not ill. I was held in dumbness by what I saw in the mountain.” “Yes, Daughter,” he responded. “The god crossed my path. Phœbus Apollo. I saw him!”