He would have replied; but at this moment the staff of the Eremite sounded among the rocks. Baffled, and dark with rage and passion, the Prince of Athens quitted Iduna, and strolled towards the upper part of the glen, to conceal his anger and disappointment.
“Eat, gentle youth,” said the Eremite. “Will not thy brother join us? What may be his name?”
“Nicæus, holy father.”
“And thine?”
Iduna blushed and hesitated. At length, in her confusion, she replied, “Iskander.”
“Nicæus,” called out the Eremite, “Iskander and myself await thee!”
Iduna trembled. She was agreeably surprised when the prince returned with a smiling countenance, and joined in the meal, with many cheerful words.
“Now I propose,” said the Eremite, “that yourself and your brother Iskander should tarry with me some days, if, indeed, my simple fare have any temptation.”
“I thank thee, holy father,” replied Nicæus, “but our affairs are urgent; nor indeed could I have tarried here at all, had it not been for my young Iskander here, who, as you may easily believe, is little accustomed to his late exertions. But, indeed, towards sunset, we must proceed.”
“Bearing with us,” added Iduna, “a most grateful recollection of our host.”