A GARDEN ON CORESSUS
The evening grew old, but the light still lingered in the sky, and Venusta suggested a walk in the garden, seeing her daughter was agitated and careworn.
The soft winds moved the leaves of the silver poplar, the violet-scented air fanned their cheeks, the convolvuli were closing, and the narcissi nodded good-night; it seemed sacrilege to break in on the perfumed silence. Varro walked with Venusta, and Nika with the Greek. Chios was the first to speak:
'Thou art unhappy to-night, Nika. What ails thee?'
'Nothing. I am happy. The evening air is sweet and pleasant to my soul, and before thou didst speak I saw the first star glisten on the diadem of night—shining out like a Pharos to the mariner; and as he knows by it that land is nigh, so see I that star a beacon on the hills of a far-away haven which perchance I may never enter, but be shipwrecked at the last.'
'Poor girl, thou art indeed sad!'
'Yea, sad I am, yet happy in my sadness. Oftentimes I am sad and wretched withal; but to-night, I know not why, I am resigned—feeling as if some great, sad joy spread its wings around me for protection. Oh that I might ever continue so! I fear this is but a prelude to a storm-wind which shall rush over and break me as a hurricane would kill those lovely flowers.'
As she spoke a night-hawk passed with a shriek, and the evening star was hid with a cloud.
'Sawest thou that dreadful bird? Heard'st thou its wail, Chios?'
'Yea. What of it? It goes to its home on the cliffs of Coressus.'
'No, no! That is not all! It spoke as it flew—shrieked sounds of gloom, which the augurs understand; it means evil!'
'Dost thou believe the augurs, Nika?'
'I do, and the words of the priestess also.'
'Which priestess?'
'Saronia.'
'What of her?'
'Dost thou not know?'
'Thy mother told me something respecting an uttered curse.'
'What if she become High Priestess of Diana?'
'She would deal justly.'
'Thou dost not know how I fear that girl—how I fear her spell. I have tried to drown it, but it will not die. It mounts above the crested ocean of my pleasure, and, like the evil bird just passed, it wheels and shrieks around, and mars the joys that youth and the world give me.'
Just then the notes of a bird singing out its soul came forth from the myrtle-trees.
'Hearest that jubilant song? It compensates the evil omen. Light up, sweet face, with radiant smiles! Answer it back with joyous greeting!'
'No, I cannot. This omen is for Chios. Thou wilt joy. Thy life is tinged with richest colour—mine is shadowed with darkness. Thou art good! I see it all when too late.'
Venusta and Varro were returning, and met Nika and her companion. The Roman playfully remarked:
'Ionian, dost thou mean to steal my love?'
'No! If thou wert jealous, why quicken thy pace and leave us, like wounded birds or disabled ships, to follow in thy wake? Here she is safely brought, and as I have acted sea-pilot; thou shalt be the harbour guide, and take her into port. Do not miss your way, as lovers often do! Come, noble Venusta, let me be thy guide.'