motionless on the nearest column.

Suddenly a bare arm, worthy of Phidias or Praxiteles, whiter than
Pantelican marble, drew aside the curtain. The Radiant's heart stopped
beating with emotion. And then Eryfile's voice resounded:

"Ha! You booby, why do you wander about and make a noise during the
night? I have been working all day, and now they won't let me sleep!"

"Eryfile! Eryfile!" exclaimed Silver-arrowed. And he began to sing:

"From lofty peaks of Parnas--where there ring
In all the glory of light's brilliant rays
The grand sweet songs which inspired muses sing
To me, by turns, in rapture and praise--
I, worshiped god--I fly, fly to thee,
Eryfile! And on thy bosom white
I shall rest, and the Eternity will be
A moment to me--the God of Light!"

"By the holy flour for sacrifices," exclaimed the baker's wife,
"that street boy sings and makes love to me. Will you go home, you
impudent!"

The Radiant, wishing to pursuade her that he was not a common mortal,
threw so much light from his person, that all the earth was lighted.
But Eryfile, seeing this, exclaimed:

"That scurrilous fellow has hidden a lantern under his robe, and he
tries to make me believe that he is a god. O daughter of mighty Dios!