“You compare me to a slave,” she said sternly.
“No, no,” he cried. “If I could only take your hand and show you the beautiful temples of the gods, the cities which I know, the sea. Lady, have you ever seen the sea?”
“No,” she answered, very low.
“Once I had a friend. He was taken prisoner with me on the pirate ship. But he died of the wounds he got shielding me—and I still love him. I thought I could never love any one in all my life as I love him; but you, dear maid, you are more than that friend. It is strange to say that. But you are my friend and my life. I am no longer my own.” His voice changed with awe. “Dear lady, it is not Aphrodite’s passion that is come upon me, it is the gift of some god loftier than she—perhaps Eros the Creator. Try to understand.”
Just here the moon sailed clear of the housetops over the way and filled the narrow lane with light. She could see him standing there, his head thrown back to see her—his golden hair bound and crowned. His very standing was elastic, spurning the ground. So much had his few weeks of gymnastic restored to him of Hellenic health and attitude.
She could see the curious, searching light in his face—a light of tenderness such as she had never known but which she recognized as all maidens do. Oh, why did her heart leap? Was she, too, in the power of a god?
Now he startled her yet more.
“Dear lady, I am coming to this house to-morrow night, I am Nikander’s guest.”
Delphians, though proud as Olympians, were yet the most cosmopolitan of Greeks. They were taught by the Oracle to receive all men hospitably.
Theria’s dread increased. What would her father think? What might not this strange youth tell!