“My pedagogos was Ageladas’s friend,” went on Eëtíon, “and he used to stop with me at Ageladas’s workshop on our way from school. I—well, I played with the clay as I do now and Ageladas saw and praised me. But oh, it was not the praise, it was the love of making beautiful gods and men which possessed me. All through my school hours I forgot my Homer, longing to be at work with Ageladas. I bribed my pedagogos again and again to bring me there. Myron was in the workshop, too, and I learned at his side. Then one day Ageladas told me he would exhibit one of my statues as his own.” Eëtíon laughed softly and tears came into his eyes. “Ah, never shall I forget my father stopping by my own statue. ‘This is most beautiful of all,’ he said. ‘This youth pouring the libation. See how he worships, how shyly he supplicates before his god?’ Then such happiness welled up within me that I could not speak. Dear Father, he never guessed that the statue was mine.” Nikander took Eëtíon’s hand. “But now, Eëtíon, now that you are a Delphian, a son of my house, surely you will not do this curious thing, which no well-born citizen would do? Delphi will give you large activities.” “No, dear Nikander,” answered Eëtíon gently. “No.” He took the little runner and with a single fierce pressure sent him back into the clay whence he had come. “Oh, don’t, don’t do that,” cried they all at once, for they loved its loveliness. “It would perish anyway,” said Eëtíon sadly. “The clay would soon crack.” CHAPTER XLII THE UNWILLING COLONIST On the far-away coast of Sicily, the western outpost of the world, lay the little town of Inessa. One day men came from the neighbouring town Catana, attacked Inessa, and razed it to the ground. This was done while Theria was yet spinning at home, before she was immured in the Pythia House. And this one cruel act, performed by men she had never known, in a town whose name she had never heard, was to affect Theria’s life more profoundly than any act of father, mother, or brother. It was her fate. A purposeful intent thus seemed to run through circumstance, deflecting it toward a far-off goal. Most of Inessa’s inhabitants were killed outright, but among those who were cast upon the world was an awkward youth—one Hyllos, son of Inessa’s most prominent citizen—but an ill-born young man who stammered abominably. This Hyllos being come to the shore of Phokis thought it a good opportunity to visit the Delphic Oracle and inquire for the curing of his speech. But when Hyllos stood before the tripod the priestess answered not at all concerning his speech, but bade him: “Return to Sicily and rebuild Inessa.” He was so disappointed that he left the tripod almost before the Pythoness had finished speaking. But from that hour misfortune followed Hyllos.