"Dig we deep among the vines,
Give the sweet spring showers a home,
Else the fairest sun that shines"—
It stopped as suddenly, dying like a sigh, and looking up he saw framed in one of the dark windows the upper part of a girl's figure dressed in white. And without a pause the boy's voice answered:
"Lends no lustre to our wines,
Sends no sparkle to the foam."
The prattle of the stream above alone whispered in the stillness. Then a voice softly asked:
"Mitsos?"
"I am here; and oh, dearest one, is it you?"
A little tinkle of laughter rippled from above, ending in a sudden, quick-drawn breath.
"At last I see you again," she said, softly, "but I don't see you at all. Mitsos, little Mitsos, is it well with you?"
Mitsos crept silently out of the shadow and stretched out his arms to her. "It is well in all but the great thing—that we are not together. But that will be soon, dearest; oh, please God! it will be soon."
Suleima leaned forward from the window.