Produced by David WidgerA THORNY PATHBy Georg EbersVolume 1CHAPTER IThe green screen slowly rose covering the lower portion of the broadstudio window where Heron the gemcutter was at work It was Melissathe artists daughter who had pulled it up with bended knees andoutstretched arms panting for breathThat is enough cried her fathers impatient voice He glanced up atthe flood of light which the blinding sun of Alexandria was pouring intothe room as it did every autumn afternoon but as soon as the shadowfell on his worktable the old mans busy fingers were at work againand he heeded his daughter no moreAn hour later Melissa again and without any bidding pulled up thescreen as before but it was so much too heavy for her that the effortbrought the blood into her calm fair face as the deep rough That isenough was again heard from the worktableThen silence reigned once more Only the artists low whistling ashe worked or the patter and pipe of the birds in their cages by thewindow broke the stillness of the spacious room till the voice andstep of a man were presently heard in the anteroomHeron laid by his graver and Melissa her gold embroidery and the eyesof father and daughter met for the first time for some hours The verybirds seemed excited and a starling which had sat moping since thescreen had shut the sun out now cried out Olympias Melissa roseand after a swift glance round the room she went to the door come whomightAy even if the brother she was expecting should bring a companion ora patron of art who desired her fathers work the room need not fear acritical eye and she was so well assured of the faultless neatness ofher own person that she only passed a hand over her brown hair andwith an involuntary movement pulled her simple white robe more tightlythrough her girdleHerons studio was as clean and as simple as his daughters attirethough it seemed larger than enough for the purpose it served for onlya very small part of it was occupied by the artist who sat as if inexile behind the worktable on which his belongings were laid out a setof small instruments in a case a tray filled with shells and bitsof onyx and other agates a yellow ball of Cyrenian modelingwaxpumicestone bottles boxes and bowlsMelissa had no sooner crossed the threshold than the sculptor drew uphis broad shoulders and brawny person and raised his hand to fling awaythe slender stylus he had been using however he thought better ofit and laid it carefully aside with the other tools But this act ofselfcontrol must have cost the hotheaded powerful man a great effortfor he shot a fierce look at the instrument which had had so narrow anescape and gave it a push of vexation with the back of his handThen he turned towards the door his sunburnt face looking surly enoughin its frame of tangled gray hair and beard and as he waited for thevisitor whom Melissa was greeting outside he tossed back his big headand threw out his broad deep chest as though preparing to wrestleMelissa presently returned and the youth whose hand she still held wasas might be seen in every feature none other than the sculptors sonBoth were darkeyed with noble and splendid heads and in statureperfectly equal but while the sons countenance beamed with heartyenjoyment and seemed by its peculiar attractiveness to be madeandto be accustomedto charm men and women alike his fathers face wasexpressive of disgust and misanthropy It seemed indeed as thoughthe newcomer had roused his ire for Heron answered his sons cheerfulgreeting with no word but a reproachful At last and paid no heed tothe hand the youth held out to himAlexander was no doubt inured to such a reception he did not disturbhimself about the old mans illhumor but slapped him on the shoulderwith rough geniality went up to the worktable with easy composuretook up the vice which held the nearly finished gem and after holdingit to the light and examining it carefully exclaimed Well donefather You have done nothing better than that for a long timePoor stuff said his father But his son laughedIf you will have it so But I will give one of my eyes to see the manin Alexandria who can do the likeAt this the old man broke out and shaking his fist he cried Becausethe man who can find anything worth doing takes good care not to wastehis time here making divine art a mere mockery by such trifling withtoys By Sirius I should like to fling all those pebbles into thefire the onyx and shells and jasper and what not and smash all thosewretched tools with these fists which were certainly made for otherwork than thisThe youth laid an arm round his fathers stalwart neck and gaylyinterrupted his wrath Oh yes Father Heron Philip and I have feltoften enough that they know how to hit hardNot nearly often enough growled the artist and the young man wentonThat I grant though every blow from you was equal to a dozen from thehand of any other father in Alexandria But that those mighty fists onhuman arms should have evoked the bewitching smile on the sweet lips ofthis Psyche if it is not a miracle of art isThe degradation of art the old man put in but Alexander hastilyaddedThe victory of the exquisite over the coarseA victory exclaimed Heron with a scornful flourish of his handI know boy why you are trying to garland the oppressive yoke withflowers of flattery So long as your surly old father sits over thevice he only whistles a song and spares you his complaints And thenthere is the money his work brings inHe laughed bitterly and as Melissa looked anxiously up at him herbrother exclaimedIf I did not know you well master and if it would not be too greata pity I would throw that lovely Psyche to the ostrich in Scopasscourtyard for by Herakles he would swallow your