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ARIADNE. 71thinking only of her;but to me then he was nomore than any one of the leafless lime-boughsdroopingby the gates of Hilarion.ShiveringIwent across the passage-wayandopened the door of her chamber. The womanthat he paid for such service was sitting there,sewing at linen,a woman old aud gentle; sheherself was sitting, too, with her arms leaning onthe bare table, and one hand dreamily movinginto figures some loose white rose-leaves fallenfrom a rose-treein a pot. She didnothear me orheed me. WhenItouched her she lifted herheavy e3'es, in which a light like that of flameseemed toburn painfully." Will he be long ?" she said,and moved therose-leaves to and fro feverishly.The woman shook her head." That is all she ever sa3Ts," she muttered as" She says it in her sleep— suchshe stitched.— times as she does sleep and she wakes stretchingout her arms. Who is he ? He must be abeast."" Heis apoet! " Isaid, and went out from thechamber into the lighted ways of the city and