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46 ARIADNE.Icannot teU why this should have had power toentermybrain and make me stop, but soit was;and Pales pricked her sandy fox-like ears, asthough in that multitude of strangers seeingsome familiar face. Iwent where the flute wasbeingplayed, before a coffee-house door, beneaththe roadside trees,under thebright stillskies andthe shine of the gasHghts.It was hard to see tbe player, for there wereso many people crowding round and sitting atease upon green iron chairs, sipping coffee andeating sweet things, for the night was sereneandnot cold. ButIlistened standing on the edge ofthe crowd,and thoughallflutes have but onevoiceamongst them, yetit seemed to me that this onespoke with the sweet sad sound thatIhad heardat Daila, when the peaches had been ripe, andedging in a little nearer,Isaw that the playerwas Amphion, whomIhad never seen from thenight that he had sent Maryx and myself totheseashore.WhenIhad returned to Rome after that timeIhad utterly forgotten him,and when remembering,Ireproachedmyself and asked of him,I