The evening tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 189?-190?, 1897-06-24
A GODDESS.


marvel OF perfect form. The flesh was
lightly tinted I'm wonderful c0lors, touched
with soft CLEANS of pale gold. IL was tho
statue OF 10 goddess.
So great wns the worship Of Silas for
the divine In art, for tbe outward shaping
of Il beautiful soul, that hc rnissd an altar
to his goddess. Iio may not have offered
pagan sacrifices to her, being "a reasonable
man, but he built temple To hold his
treasure. and tho shrine was made lovely
by painters and gravcrs, by nature, too,
for clematis and climbing roses leaned
through the arches Of the sacred place.
When Silas had leisure from his duties
as u rich man or from his studies as
wise ono, be spent hours In admiring his
rare treasure. 1t may be wondered whcth-
er the goddess cared what he felt or
whether sho missed the substantial gifts
she had been accustomed to In former
times.
So far ns her feelings may be imagined,
they must bc narrated. Thus IL was ensy
to sec that she cared nothing for the vnl-
gar details of life. She was indeed far
above the common. Whether In her old
life. when she was worshiped by, multi
tudes. she feasted In secret upon tho offer
ings laid before her, 1t was sure now that
she never thought Of food and the preparn-
ton thereof or troubled herself about
garments.
These facts would show that she was
above most women, and Silas loved her
for It, Being no god himself, but man,
Silas was not always at her side or on
pedestal. Yet In his absence he left the
temple generously opon. The goddess,
though not of heroic proportions, was safe
on her throne, and Silas felt that the wide
door was a companion to the windowless
arches. From 1t the goddess could look
out on tho highroad, and I'm turn those
faring along the way might stop for rest.
What wonder, then, that many came to
look at the lofty image? Some spoke OF
whether she were worthy Of her place or
not. Those were they who must cavil.
Some looked with curiosity and were un.
knowing. There were few who cared TO
come again. This proves that Silas was
an uncommon man.
Every one likes best his own treasure
and defends its value SO Silas felt through
his whole being the worth Of his goddess,
for he owned her, and he was a good
man and placed no other gods before her.
In tragedy without appeal even riches
do not help. A statue cannot die, but that
Is because 1t may be immortal. For the
second time in her long life the goddess
was taken from her shelter. The first
time her divinity was lost. This time 1t
was her body. Fate had brought her out
of dim past, out of the old careless days
of cheerful gods. Now fate had circum-
scribed her; still divine, to be just, but
slave-a royal slave. All, the goodness
of her owner, his wisdom, his constancy,
did not, avail The tragedy was without
appeal. 49,
For one day q wanderer came by-a
worthless singer, who amused children
and made toys-and the goddess came
down from her resting place as at O COM
mand. Itwas not known for time with
whom she went away. though Felix, the
trifling wayfarer, was believed to be the
one and got much blame.
She must have learned to speak, for
whenhe looked at her with pleased eyes in
the temple that day while he ate his crust
she signifed to him that she was tired OF
being perfect. From having the outward
form Of woman very likely she had
come to be q woman, so that 1t had grown
troublesome for her to try to be as calm,
as uncaring, as far above feeling, as she
had seemed.
When, therefore, the mountebank Felix
noted her shape, better even than he could
carve in doll; when he with carelessness
touched her body, having no straining fol
reverence in his heart, then indeed the
goddess was stirred. More than that, she
moved and held out her hands.
She did this timidly and childishly In
spite of her great age, for she had never
done it before--at least not since those
grandes passions in the great past. when
she had no soul and they were very differ.
ent, besides being half forgotten.
She did not think of her soul now,
imagine. AS for the tramp, no had the
soul Of child. He was happy from day
to day, even from hour to hour. The
past-his little past-weighed naught with
him, and the future was unfelt
1t may have been fit union when they
went forth together, for neither cared
for the material success of life. She was
more contented in being a toy than she had
ever been as great work Of art or as
revered goddess, partly because she NJ
longer cared for those shadowy hordes,
partly because the compelling touch CT
her maker was forgotten.
And this man painted her afresh to sit
his taste. He gave her more feshy tones,
and he trimmed her with ribbons. Once.
when no had SO much gold, he even gilded
her In fantastic fashion on tho hair, on
the soft surfaces of her shoulders and
thighs, where she had been so family gilt
before. She loved the caressing and the
play.
Having forgotten she was goddess, she
did much as women do, andes sad state of
things camo to pass. She let Felix put
her into his shelter, which was a mere
hut. Not at all like the marble and silver
temple was tho hut, though this lover of
the fields and bypatbs had 1t bright with
vagrant bloom and woody vines. Within
1t was bare and apt to be dark when the
sun did not shine.
And the mountebank went his way,
wandering as over. Sometimes no would
como back and find the goddess I'm sad
mood. This did not make him ms pleasant
as when her warm hues were not hid I'm
gloom. He wished her to be at his com.
Ing as the morning glory when morning
comes But she was not flower; she
was woman-scaroely even goddess
any more.
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