“Atlana, what is it? What is upon thee? Is it this matter of war?”
“Day and night I think of naught else. Hard have I tried to be brave. Atlano, go not from me. The pain I cannot bear.”
“There is no need for pain. We go to lay Pelasgia low. And I shall come again. Think, thou art the wife of a king. Trouble me no longer with bodings of evil. Would we had a child. It would take my place.”
Atlana sighed, and raised her head, determined to say no more. Relieved that her tears had ceased, Atlano said more gently:
“Let us sail down to the harbor. There have the vessels of all the ports gathered. It will cheer thee but to look upon them.”
Fine cheer, indeed, was this for such an aching heart! The queen looked at him, thinking he meant to jest. But no, his earnestness was too apparent. Already had his face brightened at the prospect. So she forced a smile, and, calling her ladies, gave the necessary orders.
Shortly, herself, the king, and a few of the nobles, with their wives, went gliding down Luith to the harbor. But great heaviness of spirit was beneath the smiles of these women; and this heaviness increased when, upon arriving at the harbor, they beheld the many war vessels in brave array, with pennants flying, and men crowding their decks. Bitter was it to listen to the exulting speeches of Atlano and his nobles; bitterer, to listen to the acclamations of those on deck and shore. The nobles’ wives looked from their queen to each other, but could derive no comfort, no hope. There was not one to lighten the gloom of the others among these suffering women.
CHAPTER III.
ATLANTIS VERSUS PELASGIA.
A few days later the Atlantean fleet sailed to the eastward to invade this upstart Pelasgia—these Pelasgians that had come from Western Asia by way of the Cyclades to make an abiding place in the Greece of to-day, as well as the islands of the Ægean Sea.
A mysterious people were the Pelasgians. Their appearance among the past known races of the earth was sudden; their extinction has been complete. Yet we know they were peaceful, and fond of agriculture; that, under the favoring skies of their adopted land, they became the greatest merchants and sailors of most ancient times, antedating the renowned Phœnicians; that from Greece they passed over to Southern Italy, there, perhaps, to inaugurate that “golden age of Saturn,” when peaceful agricultural pursuits superseded the piratical habits of the Carians and Leleges. But this is little.