Zeus.
I know but what I tell you ... that I foresee a change. [A silence.] How breathless is the air. Not the outline of a leaf is shaken against the sky.
Phœbus.
But the mist grows thinner, and high up in it I see a faint blueness.
Zeus.
I do not—nothing but the bewildering woolly whiteness, that chills my eyeballs.... [With a sudden vivacity.] Ah! yes ... it is the sea! Is Poseidon here?
Poseidon.
I went down to the shore very early indeed this morning, before there was an atom of mist in the air. I called upon the glassy, oily sea, and I could not but fancy that, although there was little motion in the wave, it did roll faintly to my foot, and fawn at me in its reply. To me also, father, it seemed as though my element was burdened with a secret which it knew not how to convey to me.
[A silence.]