Thus, in happy accord, did they begin to sing praises to their father Poseidon, the while throwing back fond kisses at their island, and even at the water which was alive with porpoises and dolphins, the former leaping their highest in their sportive appreciation of the music, the latter enjoying it with a dignified serenity befitting the state which the Atlanteans ever accorded them.
Yet continually were the singers of every galley glancing at the group under the queen’s awning. In the midst, stood the ‘Silent Priest’ before the queen; and about them were Æole, Electra, and Hellen; while near swayed Sensel, a being as mysterious as the silent one. Small wonder is it that the inquisitive islanders would have gladly ceased their singing could they have heard what was spoken by those so interested.
When presented to the queen, the ‘Silent Priest’ had bowed, then taken the hand she extended, and regarded her fixedly. At his magnetic touch, his eloquent look, she thrilled; and her voice trembled, as she said:
“Father—whom we call the ‘Silent,’ rather should I bow to thee. For thou art one whom the gods favor. Of a truth, art thou sent of them.”
As the silent one stood calm, intent, Æole thought, “How is this grand being to answer the queen?” And she drew nearer to him, her eyes filled with love rather than awe. Noting this, Hellen, Electra, and Sensel watched her eagerly.
The next moment, she received a shock. The silent one, though gesticulating as usual, was also speaking, though in lowest tone.
“Queen Atlana, now will I loose my tongue. In truth, can I say the gods have favored me.”
As his deep, musical tones continued, Æole had seized his robe, then his arm; and next was looking up wistfully in his face. Therewith, Electra began to weep; and Hellen and Sensel turned away, for they could bear no longer this look so commingled of remembrance, longing, hope, doubt.
The queen of her wonder and perturbation, exclaimed, “We believed thee dumb!”
“Queen Atlana, I spoke not that I might baffle.”