“One moment, Queen Atlana, and I will. But first, think not thy presence with Atlano could turn aside that which doth threaten.”
“What meanest thou?”
“Thy presence, can it turn aside the judgment of the gods?”
Faint, wondering was her tone, “So runneth the prophecy—so runneth the prophecy.” She clasped her hands to her forehead, gasping, “I shall go mad with this dread upon me!”
Æole ran to her, and put her arm around her. “Dear Queen Atlana, call to mind it was thy kind thought for us that made thee leave the king for this short season. Could the gods make use of such?”
At her touch and voice, the queen shivered, and averted her face. “Æole, Æole, what thou hast cost me!”
“Dear Queen, thou hast not ceased to care for me?”
Atlana held out her hand; and as Æole took it, replied: “Nay, I have not ceased to care for thee. For thy sake, I could joy over this. But, the king! Atlano—Atlano!”
There was a painful hush for a little, until she stooped to kiss the suffering girl. Afterward, with her old dignity, she commanded: “Sensel, as Sir Deucalion heedeth not, I ask that thou wilt order the galleys to be turned.”
“Dear Queen Atlana,” explained Deucalion, “how could I give the order whilst thou art angered with me?”