“Dear Theria,” laughed Nikander, “even the fish have tasted wrong. I did not know you directed the cooking of the fish.”
Then he turned to Dryas.
“Dryas,” he questioned, “have they told you the news?”
“What news?”
Then all the joyfulness was to be gone through again as Nikander told of Dryas’s election to the priesthood and his crowning.
Nikander, being by nature courageous, was never quite to realize the struggle Dryas had had to win such a crown. But fine deeds he did know, and felt new kinship with his son and all the old love and pride. As the two were talking together, Eëtíon softly drew Theria aside.
How strong and heavenly the joy in his face as he kissed her. Theria had never known how godlike Eëtíon was until now, his eyes so shining upon her and so full of awe. What was this strange love which had come to her from the gods, a thing so unheard-of for a mere Greek girl? Their very silence together seemed holy, difficult to break.
“Oh, do you think that Father will allow——” she began; and then, realizing what she was about to ask, she blushed and hushed her speech.
“Allow us what, dear Theria?”