“Prince Pelasgus, thou didst plot with my father!”
“I did, Æole. Firm was I to have thee to myself, for I was wild for this thy sweet word. And now have I it! As to thy father, ah the delight of his feeling for me, and better, his furthering! Moreover, there is the feeling, the furthering of Hellen. Did he not hasten off with Electra? Thus hath it come to pass. Thus have I thy word to be mine forever!”
He also had arisen.
“And thou thinkest I can bear to be plotted about? I have the thought to take back my word. It hath gone too soon. Yea, I will have it again. Sensel, give it to me.”
“Atlantis will rise ere I yield it! Ah, but I should like well to have thee take it back, though.” He had now caught her to him. “Yea, dear Æole, much should I like thee to take it back—for only with me will it go!”
CHAPTER XXI.
IN PELASGIA.
Fast were they nearing the dear Pelasgian coast. And jubilant became those returning. Hardly seemed it reality when they began to thread the islands off-lying their land. But the exuberance of feeling was hidden because of the sad-eyed Atlanteans, whose vessels followed dispiritedly. Thus, the Pelasgians hugged their joy to themselves. Never had the sky been a blue so deep, never the water so calm and tender, never the islands so enchanting, never the breezes so odorous. For home was near.
But the morning before entering harbor, this happened.
Deucalion called Pyrrha to their small sleeping room, and when none could hear, said: “Pyrrha, thou knowest that, since a little before the sinking of Atlantis, my strange sight hath failed me. Thus, I thought it had gone from me. But, a few minutes since, whilst sitting here thinking upon our present happy state, again I saw clearly.” He paused, overcome.
“Deucalion, what is it?”