"Do not ask me. Nothing has come of it which can be of the slightest importance to the cult or to any one. Neaera is a worse woman than I thought." Iréné hesitated. She did not wish to intrude on Lydia, and yet she knew the Mother Superior would not be satisfied with this answer. But there was no reason for forcing an answer from Lydia at once, so she accompanied her to her room. "I want a bath," said Lydia. "I feel contaminated." "Physically contaminated?" asked Iréné, smiling. "The mere presence of that woman is a physical contamination," answered Lydia. "Well, let us go down and take a plunge together," answered Iréné, laughing. "Will you?" asked Lydia. "And then we can go to the temple afterwards. That will be the best of all." The two women stepped down to the swimming bath and donned their swimming dress. Lydia stood on the plunging board, and as she raised her beautiful arms above her head and straightened herself for the plunge, she said: "Ah! Iréné, if life were all as simple and as wholesome and as delightful as this!" Reinvigorated by the fresh salt plunge, they resumed their draperies and walked slowly to the temple. The service was coming to an end and they knelt to hear the closing chorus of the Choephoroi. The words came with refreshing distinctness to Lydia, and the hopefulness of them filled her heart with strength. They told of the beauty of women, of their devotion. Beauty was a snare, but it was also a sanctuary. For the goddess gave beauty to the good and to the evil alike--so had the Fates decreed. And the evil would use it to the undoing of man, but the good to the building of him up. And the goddess loved good and hated evil. Then came the prayer of the women; they prayed to Demeter to give them charm to delight and courage to renounce, that love and moderation bring in the end happiness and peace. And the priest lifted his hand in benediction: "Go forth, for the goddess hath blessed you, and hath bidden you take heed that, pitiless though be Anagke, even her empire may at last be broken by the fruit of your womb." The congregation knelt at these words and remained kneeling while the choir marched out singing a recessional, solemn and strong. Then came the novices, the Demetrians, and, last of all, the high priest bearing the sacred emblem. When Lydia and Iréné left the temple and followed the arcade to the cloister, all doubts and fears seemed to have fallen from Lydia, as scales from eyes blinded by cataract. "How beautiful the cult of Demeter is!" exclaimed Lydia, "and how strengthening." Iréné passed her arm round Lydia's waist. "You know now," she said, "how easy my sacrifice has become! Oh, we have to pass through the fire, but once the ordeal is over, happiness comes unbidden and unexpected. Come to my boy--my boys, I should say. I left them at work and I shall probably find them at play; but they are truthful and innocent. Their innocence is a daily delight to me."