“Thou didst—thou didst!”
“And—I felt—even before I saw.”
“I call it to mind.”
“So now I feel this about the king and queen.”
“Wilt thou tell the prince?”
“Ah, Pyrrha—he is so happy.”
“Wouldst thou have me tell him?”
“We will wait, and think upon it.”
The two, dejected, sat down to ponder. After a little, Deucalion concluded, “Pyrrha, this night will I speak with him. Let him spend one more day of joy. Before he seeketh his couch will I warn him.”
“I know thou wilt cheer him. Ah, what misery is ever ready to swoop upon us of earth! Here are these poor Atlanteans with grief sorely checking their pulses, beginning to rouse a little. Their sluggish hearts are quickening. And to what? To further misery, further death of hope. Ah, our own misery will be as naught beside theirs!”