“Of a truth it pleaseth. Sensel, I own I am hungry in spite of this prison.” It was good to see her smile.
Æole smiled back, as she said:
“One cannot stay in the depths where thou art, Electra. It giveth a fine hunger to look at thee.”
Sensel laughed charmingly, then bowing low, retired. At once they sat down, and with all their woe, did justice to the dainty fare.
When Sensel returned, they were sitting side by side, deep in conversation. He said:
“Ye see I come again. Have ye ended?”
Each smiled her yes—and such smiles! A dotard’s head would have been turned. No wonder was it that his own smile answered, that his olive skin grew rosy, that his beautiful eyes became even more brilliant, that his tall body undulated with a grace surprising, that he almost forgot what he had come for. However, Electra’s words somewhat restored him. She said, with feeling:
“Sensel, well hast thou treated us. Thou hast brought us what we like. Our thanks are thine.”
He laughed so that they laughed to hear him; afterward, he looked at Æole, his color rising. Thus she said with fine graciousness:
“Sensel, our rest this night will be calmer that thou hast served us.” And with this began to blush as Psyche might because of his gallant bow.