But that those mighty fists on human arms should have evoked the bewitching smile on the sweet lips of this Psyche, if it is not a miracle of art, is--" "The degradation of art," the old man put in; but Alexander hastily added: "The victory of the exquisite over the coarse." "A victory!" exclaimed Heron, with a scornful flourish of his hand.
"I know, boy, why you are trying to garland the oppressive yoke with flowers of flattery.

So long as your surly old father sits over the vice, he only whistles a song and spares you his complaints.

And then, there is the money his work brings in!" He laughed bitterly, and as Melissa looked anxiously up at him, her brother exclaimed: "If I did not know you well, master, and if it would not be too great a pity, I would throw that lovely Psyche to the ostrich in Scopas's court-yard; for, by Herakles! he would swallow your gem more easily than we can swallow such cruel taunts.

We do indeed bless the Muses that work brings you some surcease of gloomy thoughts.

But for the rest--I hate to speak the word gold.