But Deucalion, who was much enjoying her perplexity, hastened to explain.
“Æole, Sensel hath left us. In his place is Prince Pelasgus, the son of our king.”
She closed her eyes, stunned. But the prince was taking her hand. Thereupon, recovering somewhat, she opened her eyes, looked at him calmly; and withdrawing her hand, made a low obeisance. He was the prince. He was not Sensel!—Though most unhappy thoughts were crowding upon the shock of this revealment, she managed to speak with sweet dignity.
“Prince Pelasgus, this cometh upon me without warning. Little dreamed I that Sensel was other than he seemed.”
Deucalion’s satisfaction was something to behold; and this the keen-eyed Pelop laughed over to himself. For, the former was thinking, “Æole is like her mother. She will rise above the pressing weight ever.” Then aloud, he added, in Atlantean, that Electra might be benefited.
“Yea, Æole, this is the young prince who shared with me the perils of war, and who was firm in his wish to aid in freeing thyself and Hellen. And, who, after short trial, so ably took upon himself the shape of Sensel.”
“Ever have I known the noble spirit of Sensel,” she returned.
“So ever have I,” interposed Electra. “Scarce did I open mine eyes when I heard he was the prince.”
“Thou—didst know—he was the prince?”
“Hellen told me but this morn.”