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248 ARIADNE.threw inthe flames what they loved the best — see,Ihave broken my flute and burnt it. AViU thatplease the gods she told me of ? will they beappeased? wiU they save her ? "Ah, heaven! since ever the world began, menand women have been burning their treasuresinvain,and neverhas any answer come.It was a parching, sultry,misty day, with nosunshine,but a heavy heat everywhere;Iwanderedinto the woods of Borghese, and into thehalls and chambers of the .sculpture, and — stoodbefore the Ariadne. It seemed so cruel; therewas the bronze head, beautiful and strong, withthe ivy leaves around it, and there it would stayno doubt century after century,in thelightthere,whde she,its living likeness, would perish as aflower perishespluckedbefore its time.Mine had been only a dream; nothingbut adream;and she had to die for that.It seemed to me as if the hps of the lovelyThespianLove parted,andmoved, and said, " Fora great love the earth is too narrow; and where-Iamnot,Deathis kind."Isat down in the CæsarGaUery,and leaned: