“Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, O, give me back my heart!
Or since it has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!”
Lord Byron.
A small barge shot out from the shadows of a cliff through the light spray which spumed about its prow as it cut the billows. Its occupants, in addition to the two oarsmen, were a youth and maiden of comely features. The former was clad in a long, deep bordered chiton covered with a chlamys or cape of semi-military style. His feet were protected by leather sandals, bound with straps about the calves of his legs. In indolent ease he stretched his too graceful form and gazed from beneath half closed eye-lids at the beautiful young woman who reclined upon a cushioned dais at the boat’s prow. The woman, if she were conscious of the other’s gaze, did not make it manifest. Her eyes sought the tranquil water with a dreamy, faraway expression. For some time the two sat thus. At length the man’s attitude of indolence changed abruptly. He leaned forward, drawing his companion’s gaze to his.
“Why this coolness to me, Persephone? You have been a changed girl ever since I found you wandering alone on the shore near Eleusis. Have the horrors of recent events affected your reason, that you do not smile upon me as was your wont?”
“It must be the war, Ephialtes, that makes my spirit so downcast. If only the entire Persian army had retreated across the Hellespont with Xerxes! Hordes of them still remain in Thessaly, rallying, I presume, to attack us again.”
“We are safe here at Salamis for the time being, and if I thought what you have said was the true cause of your listlessness, I should not worry, but I have feared lately that you consider seriously the attentions of Icetes, may Pluto take him!”
Persephone colored to her temples at these words. “Icetes is a sincere and lovable friend. He is no more to me than an elder brother and I will not hear his name so defiled.”