Day after day, Thoth conducted Daphne through the city, showing to her all its wonders.

They were always masked, and were invariably treated with the same profound respect—no one even speaking to them, except in answer to some question of Thoth.

All the inhabitants seemed to be people of great skill; and many of the arts which they practised Daphne would have thought magical, but for the constant assurance of her guide that everything was due simply to the accumulated knowledge of ages.

She saw black charred wood changed into beautiful crystals, and transparent fluids transformed to solid images of exquisite design. Time itself seemed to be defeated at the hands of these cunning workmen, for, in a few moments, she saw a seedling grow into a plant with beautiful flowers, as strong and healthy as if it had taken a whole spring and summer.

Space was conquered in an equally mysterious manner. In a few moments they were carried under the ground, noiselessly and apparently without motion, from one end of the city to the other. The powers of nature also seemed enslaved: the heat of the sun was made to turn vapour into ice, the air was constrained to lift great weights, and light as brilliant as the sun was drawn from running water.

To her amazement, Daphne found that the solid earth had been honey-combed with workings, and forced to yield up abundance of all kinds of treasures.

Streams of molten fluids were drawn from the centre of the earth, and compelled to separate into parts and to congeal into solid metals; and noxious gases were unloosed to drive intricate arrangements of wheels and all kinds of tools.

Daphne began, unwillingly, to feel for Thoth something of the veneration in which he was held by all the people of the place. There seemed to be nothing which he did not understand perfectly, and she thought that it must be this superiority of knowledge which commanded such respect. Her interest in him was keenly aroused, for he seemed compounded of opposite elements.

When simply speaking, he seemed as passionless as snow; but when he removed his mask, his expression revealed sometimes a keen conflict of emotion. Though he seemed in general bold, determined, and inflexible, sometimes his eyes revealed a doubtful hesitancy, and pride and confidence often seemed to give way to despair and self-pity.

Once she said to him, “Is there anything left for thee to discover?” and he replied, with all gravity, “The very beginnings of knowledge are hid from me: my knowledge is a drop in an ocean of ignorance. I have climbed a blind path which, perchance, will soon be lost in a wilderness.” And then he relapsed into a melancholy silence.

Occasionally, in their wanderings and explorations, Daphne saw others disguised like themselves, and treated with similar deference by the people generally. Even these, however, showed to Thoth, on sight of his golden staff, the submission of inferiors.

Daphne had been encouraged to ask questions on anything which occurred to her, and one day she said to Thoth—

“Are there any superior to thee? Art thou really not the king?”

“There is one to whom I owe the utmost obedience, and there are many equal to me in authority if they choose to exercise their power.”

“And what do they?”

He hesitated, and then, appearing to remember his promise to answer, said, “At present they spend their days and nights in sleep,—they rest to prepare for great deeds. I am vice-regent.”

A strange people, thought Daphne, in which the king and his princes are sleepers, and yet some say that is like the blessed gods.

Months passed away, and Daphne began to think that Thoth must have changed his intentions regarding her.

She had seen none of the other chiefs, unless those in disguise were such, and the disguise was thorough and complete.

Sometimes, when half dreaming, she imagined that Thoth must be reserving her for himself; but in a moment the image of his passionless face, which never showed any emotion save that of troubled thought, put to flight the fancy. A marble statue seemed more capable of love than this superlatively wise vice-regent.

Never by one glance or touch, or word or gesture, had Thoth shown the smallest sign of love for her. He treated her always with the same delicacy; he never laughed at her ignorance; and in everything he tried to consult her wishes. Yet Daphne was at that time one of the most beautiful women in the world, in the full pride of youth and health, and endowed with a mind capable of great thoughts, and a spirit of courage to the performance of great deeds; and Thoth was apparently in the very prime of vigorous manhood. The man was a mystery to her—a mystery surrounded by mysteries.

Yet why had he brought her and tried to bring more of her companions thither, with infinite trouble and risk?

And why had he made such a careful selection?—for the maidens were the flower of Greece.

When her reflections were turned in this direction, other questions forced themselves upon her which hitherto a certain delicacy had prevented her from putting to Thoth.

How was it that his companions had shown such repugnance and contempt for her compatriots and herself, whilst Thoth treated her with such deference?

Over and over again she tried to detect in his manner some trace of dislike, but without success. Was Thoth of a different race?

Then she wondered how the women of the highest rank were treated, and why the chiefs should have sought for strange women for wives. Many women she had seen in the city, but none who seemed of a superior degree, unless indeed some of the masks were women disguised like herself. At length she determined to ask Thoth, and the next time they met a mask she inquired if there were other women in her position.

He at once said “No.”

“Do any of the women of thy tribe use this dress?”

“No.”

“Do ye of the highest rank always seek wives from beyond the seas?”

“With one exception,” he replied, “thou art the only stranger who has entered our walls since their foundation.”

“Then are all your women dead—are none of queenly rank left?”

“There are more of them than of us.”

“Are they not beautiful?”

For answer he led her into a building which seemed to be a kind of temple. He unlocked a massive gate, and conducted her into a well-lighted apartment. In the middle was placed the statue of a most beautiful woman.

“Such,” he said, “are our women by nature. Greece has rarely produced such wonders of form and grace.”

From the statue Daphne turned to the walls, which seemed to be covered with statuary and paintings, and she started back terrified.

A horrible fascination made her stare at the works, and her eyes drank in the meaning of the artist in a moment.

All the highest skill of the painter and sculptor had apparently been exercised to pour contempt upon women.

On the beautiful statue in the middle of the apartment a number of stony figures looked down with sneering hatred. This grouping she might possibly have thought accidental, but the pictures left no doubt as to the design of the whole chamber. In every case beautiful women were being treated in a degraded manner, and men of the same race as Thoth were depicted as treating them with absolute loathing and disgust.

Then in Daphne’s breast fear gave way to anger and offended pride, and she said to Thoth—

“How dost thou dare to show such things to me? Is this thy respect and honour? Dost thou not know that man is raised above the beasts only by the reverence paid to women? I loathe thy city, thy race, and thee! Of what avail is all the miserable skill and cunning of thy slaves? A swallow or locust can fly more easily, a spider is a better spinner, and the tiniest flower draws more varied beauty from the dull earth. I scorn thy boasted reason. Liar and hypocrite! how canst thou stay in my presence? Throw off thy mask and let me see thy cowardly features livid with fear and shame. Let me see before I die that in this abominable spot one blow in honour of women has struck home. Take off that mask—wilt thou make me mad? Down with the mask, I say, or my reason will not hold till I can find a way to death. Thou shalt not make me mad, and keep me for thy lust and cruelty in this horrid den. Hast thou no dagger—no deadly poison? Let me die! Monster, make thyself human for a moment, and being human, slay me. I will not be maddened and polluted.”

Such and other wild words spoke Daphne, every moment becoming more and more infuriated, and, in truth, approaching the verge of madness. At last she rushed at Thoth and tore off his mask with a passionate cry.

His face struck her dumb with amazement. Instead of shame and fear, she saw wonder and triumph depicted on his features. Yet his look was rather like that of a spectator in a theatre who applauds a good actor, than of a man in real life. Certainly he showed neither contempt nor lust nor cruelty. The flood of passion in Daphne’s soul was swept away in momentary wonder, and she fell senseless to the ground.