'And there we have passed our winter and our spring,' added Venetia, 'almost as delightfully as you could have done at Athens.'
'Well,' thought Cadurcis to himself, 'I have seen many of the world's marvels, but this day is a miracle.'
When they had proceeded through the olive-wood, and mounted the acclivity, they arrived at a path which permitted the ascent of only one person at a time. Cadurcis was last, and followed Venetia. Unable any longer to endure the suspense, he was rather irritated that she kept so close to her father; he himself loitered a few paces behind, and, breaking off a branch of laurel, he tossed it at her. She looked round and smiled; he beckoned to her to fall back. 'Tell me, Venetia,' he said, 'what does all this mean?'
'It means that we are at last all very happy,' she replied. 'Do you not see my father?'
'Yes; and I am very glad to see him; but this company is the very last in which I expected to have that pleasure.'
'It is too long a story to tell now; you must imagine it.'
'But are you glad to see me?'
'Very.'
'I don't think you care for me the least.'
'Silly Lord Cadurcis!' she said, smiling.