“She doth.”
“And the queen?”
“She aroused but to faint again; and hath lain in a stupor through the night.”
“We will hasten to her,” spoke Deucalion hurriedly. “But first, Æole.”
Æole lay as marble on a couch near that of the queen. Indeed, her immobility would have alarmed one not acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of her case. But, in her cheeks, was a reassuring, faintest tinge of pink, and her lips retained their color and dewiness. It was as though a rare statue was becoming replete with life; and these beholding, continued to gaze in admiring wonder tinctured with awe.
Sensel’s face was a study in its love and thanksgiving. He could not raise his eyes from this enthrallment.
After one keen look, Deucalion bowed his head as if satisfied, and whispered: “I will first look to the queen.”
He found Atlana’s set face like that of death, and instantly was applying restoratives. Then leaving Rica and Elna to chafe her hands, he returned beside Æole.
Sensel seized his hand. “Ah, Deucalion, what a power is thine!”
“Yea, Father. But, how camest thou by it? Never hath the like been known in Atlantis. Else those priests would not have been mastered.”