But Æole, in her pity and gratitude, went after him; and said bravely:
“Gracious King—”
He faced her. “Speak, Æole.”
“Gracious King, bid us good speed. And, we would thank thee.”
“Æole, thank me not. I would have done thee—harm. But—the powers—have come—between!” He spoke with a queer reluctance of articulation. Then an expression came into his face that caused the beholders to shrink with horror. It was that of a soul that, at last, sees the vortex, the Gehenna, to which it has been trending; of a soul that, in spite of its better knowledge and its fast coming fate, would not shake off the evilness of its bent, the sensuality that had destroyed it!
Æole, alone, did not see this look. For, as the king faced her, she had glanced at Sensel to receive his intent gaze; and thereby had blushed, and bent her head. She lifted it to behold him staring at the king, horrified. When, in her alarm, she looked about her, it was but to see horror depicted on every face. As all eyes were on the king, she then turned to him.
The questioning look of her deep, clear, innocent eyes was as a shock to Atlano; and a good impulse stirred him. Possibly some unselfish spring was yet remaining within him. His lips moved as if he would speak, though no sound came at first, with all his effort; but finally, his unwilling tongue moved spasmodically.
“Good speed, Æole. And know—that—for thee—I would have dared earth and the powers beyond. But now I tell thee—I am glad that ruin doth threaten me—to thy saving!”
Bending over, he kissed her robe. Then with no look about him, moved from their sight.
Æole was so overcome that Sensel came beside her, and led her within the withdrawing room, and to a couch. As she sank thereon, he entreated, “Æole, cheer. The worst is past. Now for Pelasgia!”