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I glanced up, and arose with a cry that must have made those present doubt my sanity. A perfect and beautiful Io was walking leisurely across the glass. "A moth!" I cried. "I have none like it! Deacon, get the net!" I caught a hat from the couch, and ran to the veranda. The Deacon followed with the net. "I was afraid to wait," I explained.
After the reporter had left him, Banneker bore the volume to his room and read the sonnet again and again, devout and absorbed, a seeker for the oracle. "Wouldn't you like to know when I'm going home?" Io Welland looked up from beneath her dark lashes at her hostess with a mixture of mischief and deprecation. "No," said Miss Van Arsdale quietly. "Ah? Well, I would.
"You'll always understand yourself, Io." "If that comes when that comes Ban, there's something in the book, our book, that I've left you to read." "'The Voices'?" "Yes. I've fastened the pages together so that you can't read it too soon." "When, then?" "When I tell you ... No; not when I tell you. When oh, when you must!
"Down with Cæsar!" "Down with the tribunes!" "Io! Pompeius!" It was all as some wild distorted dream passing before Drusus's eyes. He could not bring himself to conceive the scene as otherwise. In a sort of stupor he saw the senators swarming to the right of the building, hastening to cast their votes in favour of Domitius's motion.
A girl darted from the crowd, and gazed hard on the face of Olinthus. 'By Jupiter, a stout knave! I say, we shall have a man for the tiger now; one for each beast! 'Ho! shouted the mob; 'a man for the lion, and another for the tiger! What luck! Io Paean! THE night was somewhat advanced, and the gay lounging places of the Pompeians were still crowded.
After him came the soldiers, singing Io triumphe and other songs of victory. On reaching the Capitol the victor placed the laurel branch on the cap of the seated Jupiter, and offered the thank-offerings. A feast of the dignitaries, and sometimes of the soldiers and people, followed.
"I'm going to tell you exactly what occurred," said Banneker quietly, and outlined the episode of the editorial, suppressing, however, Marrineal's covert threat as to Io and The Searchlight. "And I haven't resigned. So you see what manner of man I am," he concluded defiantly. "You mean a coward? I don't think it." "I wish I were sure!" burst out Banneker. "Ah?
He draws animals, trees, flowers, as Correggio draws Antiope or Io; and it is only in his drawings now that he speaks clearly to us. The "Mona Lisa" is well enough, but another hand might have executed the painting of it.
He sent a telegram to Mindle, his factotum on the ground. Hold all newspapers from Miss C. until I get there, if you have to rob mails. Without packing his things, without closing his house, without resigning his editorship, he took the next train for Manzanita. Io, coming East, and still unaware of the final tragedy, passed him, halfway.
There came to her, confusedly, some echo of an ancient fable some vision of Io goaded by the gadfly or of Ariadne roaming the lone sea-strand. It brought with it all the sense of her own intention and desire; she too might have been, for the hour, some far-off harassed heroine only with a part to play for which she knew, exactly, no inspiring precedent.
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