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Updated: June 18, 2025
The slender figure was poised on one foot; the other, covered to the ankle with the long robe, hovered in the air. Had not the wings which, as Nike, belonged to her been lacking, every one would have been convinced that she was flying that she had just descended from the heights of Olympus to crown the kneeling victor.
"I should deplore that," replied Proclus, stroking his sharp chin with his thumb and forefinger; "but I fear that our beautiful Nike also cared little for this lofty virtue of the judge in the last coronation. However, her immortal model lacks it often enough."
Not only her hand, her gaze and her every feature awarded the prize to the man at her feet. There was no doubt that, if Nike herself came to the earth to make the best man happy with the noblest of crowns, the spectacle would be a similar one. And Hermon! No garlanded victor could look up to the gracious divinity more joyously, more completely enthralled by grateful rapture.
Passionate as was his national feeling, he identified himself with his worship of moral greatness. If in his poetry he loudly proclaimed the triumph of France, it was because in her, by an act of faith, he adored the loftiest ideas of modern Europe, the Athena Nike, the victorious Law which takes its revenge on Force.
The beautiful little temple of Athena Nike, tho outside the Propylæa thrust out as it were on a sort of great buttress high on the right must still be called a part, and a very striking part, of the Acropolis.
NEPHTHIS was the sister of Isis, Osiris, Typho, and Aroeris, and the wife of Typho; but being in love with Osiris she managed to be taken to his embraces, and she became pregnant. That intrigue having been discovered by Isis, she adopted the child that Nephthis, fearing the anger of her husband, had hidden, brought him up as her own under the name of Anubis. Nephthis was also called NIKÉ by some.
Oddly enough there recurred to his mind, as he drew near the waiting, sneering Kamrou, that brave old war-cry of the Greeks of Xenophon as they hurled themselves against the vastly greater army of the Persians "Zeus Sotor kai Nike! Zeus Savior and victory!" The shout burst from his lips.
To Aubrey, sitting beside his brother, the Nikê more than once suggested the recollection of a broken Virgin hanging from a fragment of a ruined church which he remembered on a bit of road near Mametz, at which he had seen passing soldiers look stealthily and long.
Its cold, proud beauty was here again in Greece; the Hermes at Olympia; the Wingless Victory from the temple of Niké Apteros, made wingless that victory might never depart from Athens; the lovelier Winged Victory from the Louvre, with her electric poise, the most exhilarating, the most inspiring, the most intoxicating Victory the world has ever known, was loosed from her marble prison, and was again breathing the pure air of her native hills.
The slender figure was poised on one foot; the other, covered to the ankle with the long robe, hovered in the air. Had not the wings which, as Nike, belonged to her been lacking, every one would have been convinced that she was flying that she had just descended from the heights of Olympus to crown the kneeling victor.
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