"No," he answered, "they lived them. When they had forgotten how
to do that they began to act."

He took a flute from his pocket and began to play. A cry rang
out through the gladness of the notes, and it brought tears to
the girl's eyes. He stopped, seeing them there, and put the
flute back into his pocket.

"Did you take my advice the other day?" he asked.

"The advice was very general," said Daphne. "I presume an
oracle's always is. No, I did not follow it."

"Antigone, Antigone," he murmured.

"Why Antigone?" demanded the girl.

"Because your duty is dearer to you than life, and love."

"Please go down there," said the girl impetuously, "and play
Antigone for me. Make me see it and feel it. I have been
sitting here for an hour wishing that I could realize here a
tragedy of long ago."

He bowed submissively.

"Commands from Caesar's seat must always be obeyed," he observed.
"Do you know Greek, Antigone?"