Help me, oh! help me to forget him, that my very thoughts may remain pure." With these words she flung herself on her knees before the chest, pressed her brow against the hard wood, and strove to pray.
Only for one thing did she entreat the gods; for strength to forget the man who had betrayed her into losing her peace of mind.
But just as swift clouds float across the sky, distracting the labors of the star-gazer, who is striving to observe some remote planet--as the clatter of the street interrupts again and again some sweet song we fain would hear, marring it with its harsh discords--so again and again the image of the young Roman came across Klea's prayers for release from that very thought, and at last it seemed to her that she was like a man who strives to raise a block of stone by the exertion of his utmost strength, and who weary at last of lifting the stone is crushed to the earth by its weight; still she felt that, in spite of all her prayers and efforts, the enemy she strove to keep off only came nearer, and instead of flying from her, overmastered her soul with a grasp from which she could not escape.
Finally she gave up the unavailing struggle, cooled her burning face with cold water, and tightened the straps of her sandals to go to the temple; near the god himself she hoped she might in some degree recover the peace she could not find here.
Just at the door she met Irene, who told her that the singing-practice was put off, on account of the procession which was fixed for four hours after noon.

And as Klea went towards the temple her sister called after her.
"Do not stay too long though, water will be wanted again directly for the libations." "Then will you go alone to the work ?" asked Klea; "there cannot be very much wanted, for the temple will soon be empty on account of the procession.

A few jars-full will be enough.

There is a cake of bread and a peach in there for you; I must keep the other for little Philo.".