As soon as their visitor had departed, Masthlion withdrew to his workshop at the rear of his premises. He found it vain, however, to try and use his tools during the disturbed state of his mind; for every now and then he discovered himself standing motionless with them in his hand, his thoughts being far away. After a wasted half hour, therefore, he threw them down, and, washing his hands and face, left the house to wander away on a lonely ramble along the edge of the sea, and up the ravines of the hills, in order to give unrestrained liberty in his meditations.
The mountains were looming dark and purple in the gathering gloom, and a chilly breath from the dusky sea was [pg 17]stirring the leaves when he turned his steps homeward. He found his simple supper and his wife and daughter awaiting him. An unusual restraint weighed upon them all. The customary familiar chat was lacking, and the meal passed quickly and in silence.
When Neæra put her arms round her father’s neck for her nightly caress, she whispered, ‘Have I done wrong in loving him, father? Are you displeased with your Neæra?’
‘I am not displeased, child. I blame no one for loving; yet would I be less anxious had you loved some humbler man.’
‘He is noble and good, father.’
‘The gods grant it true.’
‘If you will it I will see him no more.’
‘Nay, you talk foolishly—I hope I am neither harsh nor selfish. Get to bed, child, and try if you can sleep, though your heart be galloping, this moment, to Rome.’
‘Say you are not angry with me then!’ she murmured.
‘I blame you not, silly girl; I blame six feet or more of human flesh, and a handsome face, which hath beguiled your silly girlish thoughts. Heaven only knows how much more mischief of the same nature they are guilty of already, for I do not—now go!’