CHAPTER XIII.
DAMON AND PYTHIAS AT THE THEATRE Once, long before the beginning of this story, Damon and Pythias were sitting in a theatre together, with the wonderful overture just beginning to steal through their senses.
Ah, violins, whither would you take their souls?
You call to them like the voice of one waiting by the sea, bathed in sunset.

What are these wonderful things you are whispering to their souls?
You promise--ah, what things you promise, strange voices of the string! Oh, sirens, have pity! Their hearts are pure, their bodies sweet as apples.

Oh, be faithful, betray them not, beautiful voices of the wondrous world! The overture had succeeded.

Their souls had followed it over the footlights, and, floating in the limelight, shone there awaiting the fulfilment of the promise.
The play was "Pygmalion and Galatea," and at the appearance of Galatea they knew that the overture had not lied.

There, in dazzling white flesh, was all it had promised; and when she called "Pyg-ma-lion!" how their hearts thumped!--for they knew it was really them she was calling.
"Pyg-ma-lion! Pyg-ma-lion!" It was as though Cleopatra called them from the tomb.
Their hands met.