Mitsos had the most admirable temper, and though it had been touched in a quarter where he could not have anticipated attack, he regained it in a moment.
"Never mind Zuleika," he said, sitting down again; "go on talking to me. I like to hear you talk, and give me your hand again. Put it in mine; it is so soft and white. I never saw a hand like yours!"
Suleima laughed.
"There you are, then. Oh, Mitsos, don't squeeze it so; you hurt me! What shall I talk about? I have nothing to talk about. Nothing ever happened to me. Zuleika—"
"Don't talk about Zuleika!" said Mitsos, between his teeth.
"Well, you told me to talk. I don't want to talk about Zuleika. Oh, Mitsos, look how far we are out! There is Nauplia behind us. We must go back!"
"No, not yet."
"But we must! It will take us an hour or more to get back! Please let us go back, Mitsos?"
Mitsos sat still a moment.
"Tell me you don't want to go back," he said, in a whisper.