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140 ARIADNE.that GodHimself could not quench the flame — ofit, even if He would. You never loved her!you!"It seemed to me the pitifulest thing that everthe ear of mancould hear;it stunned me.Across my brain ranalineIonce —had readinsome coarse cruel book:" Les femmes ne savent pas distinguerl'appetit de1'amour."AVas great Love nowhere in the world savehere and there in some woman's breakingheart ? — AVas Philotes the only thing menknew ?Icould speak no more to him; the unutterabledesolation of it struck me dumb. Ifelt asin that very spot somepagan Roman might havefelt, seeing his daughter passing by between theguards to perish for the love of Christ, he knowingall the while that her Christ was dead inGalilee, and could not aid her, and that theangelic hosts she waited for to break the wheeland quench the fires, had never had a shape orsubstance, saveinthe heated fancyof some desertsaint or hunted preacher.