The day arrived for the election of High Priestess of Diana, and, as was generally expected within the Temple, Saronia was chosen to occupy that exalted position. When the people heard of this they were amazed, for amongst them she was scarcely known, excepting for her kindly manner and beautiful presence. Few, if any, outside the Temple recognised in her any of those superior intellectual attainments which were expected in the person who undertook the highest and most sacred duties of the Temple. Consequent on the election of a comparatively unknown girl, inquiries were numerous, asking who she was and whence she came, springing like a comet out of the gray depths of the sky; and when reply was made that she had been a slave to the wife of Lucius, many marvelled, and said it was the hand of the goddess who raised one of low degree to sit upon the golden throne; whilst among the noble families of Rome great curiosity was manifested to glean from her former mistress what she was like—what was thought of her; in fact, they wished to know all about the former slave. And thus, in a brief period, Saronia became the most notable person in all Ephesus and throughout Ionia, into Lydia, Caria, Pamphylia and Phrygia, and over the sea to Greece.

It was during this excitement Nika came to the studio of Chios. It was her first visit. Never did the girl look more beautiful. She greeted the artist with a smile, and sat down upon one of the lovely couches. Casting aside her richly-embroidered cloak, she revealed her snow-white garments clinging in folds around her graceful form. Her hair fell forward on either side, leaving an arched temple smooth as marble, and waved away over her ears till it was caught by an azure ribbon flecked with gold. Then she laughed a merry peal of laughter, and said:

'Art thou glad to see me?'

'I am, Nika. Thou bringest sunshine into the place. It lights up thy face and twinkles like stars in thy beautiful hair. One requires a cheerful sitter to make a good likeness, for, after all, the poor artist has only a few pigments to portray the loveliest of creatures.'

'Now, now, silence, flatterer! To business. How intendest thou to treat the subject which may represent me? Say, wilt thou paint me as Ariadne in Naxos?'

'No; the subject ill befits these joyous times. Ariadne lost her lover; thou hast gained one, and retainest him with chains of brass. I will paint thee as thou reclinest. Keep thou the cheerful mood, and Nika shall see how she looks when she is happy.'

'Must I not rearrange those wandering locks?'

'No; the light dances between the shadows like children at play. Let them remain.'

'Very well, Chios. Thou art an obliging man. I will do my best to remain as steady as Olympus. May I converse?'

'Freely, if thou pleasest.'

After the sitting was completed, she felt that she had never spent a happier day, and said:

'When may I come again?'

'To-morrow, at the same hour. I will paint thee whilst in such merry mood. Good-bye, Nika; greetings to thy mother.'

The next day, and from time to time, she came to Chios, until the painting was well-nigh finished.

One evil day she came and reclined upon her accustomed couch. Chios was absent. After a while she arose, and moved around the room. Behind a curtain of splendid tapestry, half hid, she saw a picture o'er which was thrown a screen of yellow silk. She would see the painting on the hidden panel; she would lift the veil—see the goddess. What fun she would have with Chios! Perchance 'twas some Ionian beauty or Carian girl who had smitten him suddenly. Should she risk it? Yes—no—perhaps he might come swiftly and be annoyed. So she moved away—stood still for a moment.

'See it I must. If caught, I will laugh away his censure—shine out on him in all my splendour and burn up his reproof.'

So she stepped forward and raised the yellow silk concealing the picture of Saronia as High Priestess of Diana, and as that dark, mysterious face met her gaze, she uttered a piercing shriek, and fell to the ground. Chios heard it, and rushed within. Seeing the curtain disturbed, he took in the whole position, and, darting forward, found Nika lying unconscious. He raised her and laid her on the couch. Her flowing hair had burst its bands and fallen over her shoulders. He tried to rouse her, called her name, and said: 'Chios is here, Nika, awake!' But she lay as one who was dead.

What could be done? Her bosom heaved—she was not dead—she would come to again. He could not leave her for assistance, for if she awoke and found herself alone, she might die. He knelt by her side, and chafed her hands; but it was of no avail. Just then a thought came into his mind. He would paint her as she slumbered in that death-like swoon. He seized his brushes, and quickly wrought a picture—sketchy, but true—and when it was drawn he called it 'Death.' Then came signs of awakening. Tears flowed from the half-opened eyes, and rushes of colour, like the morning sunrise, stole over her cheeks. Then the mists cleared away, and she saw Chios kneeling before her, and, with a wild, convulsive start, she fell upon his neck, crying, 'Save me! save me!'

And Chios answered:

'Thou art safe. What fearest thou?'

'I fear the face of Saronia. I shall never forget it. It is like when I fell before her as she cursed me.'

'Calm thyself! I tell thee again there is nothing to fear. I am with thee—no harm shall befall.'

'Dost thou not fear her thyself?'

'No.'

'Then—thou lovest her?'

'What madness seizes thee? How can I love a sacred priestess of the holy Temple?'

'A woman is quick to read a man. Whether thou knowest it fully or not, I tell thee thou lovest Saronia, the chief of the priestesses of the mighty goddess. Chios, thou hast power over this fearful being! Oh that she were not a priestess!'

'Why so? What difference would it make to thee?'

'All.'

'Tell me what thou meanest.'

'This. If it were possible for thee to approach her, thou couldst intercede for me. The curse might be removed from off this soul; bit by bit, as the sun darkens by eclipse, so my spirit grows more night-like, and soon my lamp shall go out in darkness. I know it is impossible for thee to speak to her, or I would ask thee, but canst thou not send to her privately? Love thee I am certain she does. This curse somehow sharpens my intellect, and my inner sight is clearer. I perceive things which wound me sorely. If she loves thee, she cannot deny thee. Wilt thou help me? Thou hatest me not, neither dost thou love me. All this I have seen long since; but I love thee dearly. What need have I to say this? Thou art already aware of it. It is not meet I should thus speak, seeing I am betrothed to Varro. It is not chaste to unburden my feelings in this manner, but my so doing will not injure the Roman or conjure up the fire of love in Chios for Nika. No, it will not harm.'

'Nika!'

'Listen, Chios. I would die for thee. Is not this love worthy of thy regard, worthy of an effort on thy part? Wilt thou not take pity on a poor outcast soul? And, Chios, if thou art vexed with me for divining thy love for Saronia—vexed with my love for thee—then, if I cannot banish such love—the curse of a love for thee without a love in return—then, forgive me, and I will bury it, that it may never rise again from the grave of my heart. Oh, help me—help me!'

'Nika, hear me calmly. There was a time when I could speak to Saronia; but she now soars to an altitude unapproachable, and I can follow her only afar off. I dare not send a message to her. She, who stands first of Ionian women, Queen of the World next the goddess, how is it possible?'

'Chios, all things are possible whilst life lasts. If death cut us down in the endeavour, then there is an end of it; but to dare unto death requires love stronger than life. Command me to see her on thy behalf, and I will speak to her or die in the attempt.'

'Good girl, I do not require thine assistance. I have no message for her. How can I help thee? Would that I could! Let me think for a moment. I have a plan—the Roman! Thou hast influence with him, say?'

'He adores me.'

'Then propose to him that I paint Saronia. Thou hast seen the picture. It is like her, is it not?'

'It is, truly so.'

'Well, no one knows I am engaged on this work but Varro, and he caught a glimpse of it; we can make it necessary that I should see her at the Temple. If the Roman offer to present the picture, this will be granted. He is wealthy and can pay a large sum for the painting, but I will return every coin. If my greatest work can aid you, freely, freely will I give it; but, hear me, this will be a fruitless endeavour.'

'How so?'

'Because, if such a curse is on thee, it is not the curse of Saronia. She would not blast thee. If such a thing exists, it is the curse of Hecate. The priestess had never the power to conceive it, neither the strength to kill it; but hear me further. I do not believe thou art cursed. My view of a presiding demon or divinity runs not in such direction. Gods and goddesses roam not to and fro blasting spirits of mortals in such manner. It is an idea born of older times, and doubtless will survive down the ages until men grow wiser; then such nonsense will be looked upon with ridicule, and become a thing of the past.'

Nika shuddered, and said:

'Would I could think so! I know what I say is true—I am as certain of it as that I exist. Were I bereft of reason and madness clothed me as with a garment, yet this curse, burnt into my soul with letters of fire, would be understood in all its power to me.'

'It is useless talking to thee, foolish girl. I will do as thou wishest with the picture of Saronia.'

'And I will away and do my part, and hope, ere many days are ended, thy project may bear fruit.'

Pale and agitated, she arose to go. Chios said:

'I will accompany thee and pay my respects to thy mother;' and gathering a bunch of orange-blossom and roses, he gave them to Nika.