a bluish tinge had overspread his bloated features, and she broke into
the deep, agonized, weeping which, a few hours previously had touched the
architect's heart.

There was a sudden stir behind the screens which enclosed the sculptor
and the work in progress. Pollux had been working for a long time with
zeal and pleasure, but at last the steward's snoring had begun to disturb
him. The body of the Muse had already taken a definite form and he could
begin to work out the head with the earliest dawn of day. He now dropped
his arms wearily, for as soon as he ceased to create with his whole heart
and mind he felt tired, and saw plainly that without a model he could do
nothing satisfactory with the drapery of his Urania. So he pulled his
stool up to a great chest full of gypsum to get a little repose by
leaning against it.

But sleep avoided the artist who was too much excited by his rapid
night's work, and as soon as Selene opened the door he sat upright and
peeped through an opening between the frames of his place of retirement.
When he saw the tall draped figure in whose hand a lamp was trembling,
when he watched her cross the spacious hall, and then suddenly stand
still, he was not a little startled, but this did not hinder him from
noting every step of the nocturnal spectre with far more curiosity than
alarm. Then, when Selene looked round her, and the lamp illuminated her
face, be recognized the steward's daughter, and immediately knew what she
must be seeking.

Her vain attempts to rouse the sleeper, though somewhat pathetic, had in
them at the same time something irresistibly ludicrous, and Pollux felt
sorely tempted to laugh. But as soon as Selene began to weep so bitterly
he hastily pushed apart two of the laths of the screen, went up and