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ARIADNE. 107and the naked there were tears in her voice;when she saw alittle child at its mother's breast,aninfinite yearning cameinto her eyes.So the clays and the weeks and the monthswent on, and she dwelt here in this high tower,undisturbed, and thinking only of one creature.Iam sure she had no hope that he wouldreturn to her. He had left her alone in herdesolation, as Ariadne was left onNaxos. Only,toher no consolation waspossible.Ido not think either that she ever understoodthe deep wrong that he had done to her. Insome way she had wearied him, and he hadforsaken her: that she understood.But shecherished the memories of his love as her onechief glory upon earth. She would have said,as Heloise says in one of her — letters:" I'lusjcm'humilias pour toi plus j'esperais gagner dans toncSur. Sile maitre dumonde, si 1'cmpereur lui-meme, eut voulum'honorer du nom de son epouse, j'aurais mi'eux aime etreappelee tamaitresse (pie sa feiunic et sonimperatrice."The world calls this sin. Aye, the world isvery wise, no doubt.It chooses its words well — the world whichlets the adulteress pass up the throne-rooms of