Summary

Portrait of Georg Ebers Georg Ebers Arachne — Volume 04

Beauty? Who would expect to find in the active, constantly toiling weaver, the mortal daughter of an industrious dyer in purple, the calm, refreshing charm of divine women? I at least am neither foolish nor unjust enough to do so. The degree of beauty Althea possesses would entirely satisfy me for the Arachne. But when I imagine a plastic work faithful to the model of yesterday evening—though I have seen a great deal with my own eyes, and am always ready to defer to riper judgment—I would think, while looking at it: This statue came to the artist from the stage, but never from Nature.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Georg Ebers Georg Ebers Arachne — Volume 04

While Philippus was showing the guests how safely the archers and slingers could be concealed behind the walls and battlements and discharge their missiles, and explaining the purpose of the great catapults on the outermost dike washed by the sea, the artist was listening to the ever-increasing roar of the waves which poured into the harbour from the open sea, to their loud dashing against the strong mole, to the shrill scream of the sea gulls, the flapping of the sails, which were being taken in everywhere—in short, to all the sounds occasioned by the rising violence of the wind.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Georg Ebers Georg Ebers Arachne — Volume 04

Then drawing his hand from his guide’s arm, he pressed it upon his poor, sightless, burning eyes, and in helpless rage, like a beast of prey which feels the teeth of the hunter’s iron trap rend his flesh, groaned fiercely, “Blind! blind!” and again, and yet again, “Blind!”
While the morning star was still paling, the lad who after Hermon’s landing had raced along the shore with the burning torch glided into the little pronaos of the Temple of Nemesis.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature