He laid a vial upon the table; then led them to a couch, and bade them comfort each other. They replied not to him, but drooped their heads forlornly as he passed out. As for Æole, she seemed turning to marble.
At the threshold were awaiting Hellen and Sensel with their supplies; and each looked most determined as he passed onward. Then, Sensel knocked lightly at the door, when Electra opened to them.
Sensel hurried on toward Æole; but Hellen paused by the door. “Electra, I go with my father. Sensel will care for thee and Æole. And now to kiss thee. For never shall I see thee more!”
The last words seemed to tear him. Electra, pallid and trembling, whispered: “Thou art right to go. But—the pain!”
He caught her to him, declaring how dear she was, and begging she would not forget his love; then kissed her, and ran out.
Meanwhile, Sensel was pressing Æole’s hand so that she revived, and looked up at him. At sight of the anguish in her eyes, he forgot himself, and kissed her hair, her hands, her robe, as he cried, “Æole—Æole!”
She, flushing and paling, would have arisen. But he said, “Nay, nay!” And after again kissing her hand, sped to the door where he paused to bid farewell to Electra, and then vanished.
Deucalion stood at the stern. When they joined him, he said as though giving some simple order, “Press on to the island. There will I come to you.”
The two received his embraces, each biding his time, each watching the other. Into the boat, they threw the bags of food, the skins of water and wine; then, handing him the oil, waited as he began the descent, each purposing to throw himself after.
But Deucalion was not half way, when, in the hush of the amazed beholders, was heard a sharp cry from Electra. Instantly, Hellen turned, and ran to the withdrawing room. Thus Sensel found no bar to his resolve. In a trice, he had leaped down beside Deucalion. “I came with thee, I go with thee!” he cried. With this, he detached the rope, and the boat tossed away.