After the like attention to Electra, he thought of his dishes, and withdrew with the air of a prince.
“He is a wonder,” ejaculated Electra.
“Yea; and one it will be hard to get over. Was there ever such grace as his in the bowing?”
“Never! His serpent self knoweth how to do things.”
Then, fearing he might have heard this, Electra arose, and looked out with due caution. She returned, whispering:
“He standeth in deep thought at the end of the passage, and without the dishes or food. He hath passed his burden to some other. I have it! He would know more of us.”
“Well is it, for we would know more of him.” And Æole arose to peer out. “He hath gone,” next came regretfully. “We shall not look upon him further this day.”
They resumed their seats, again to confide their fears, or to remain quiet and muse. Upon parting for the night, they wept in each other’s arms.
But they were young. Thus sleep wooed them from their sorrow, and they aroused only when the gong had sounded long in the morning. When Sensel came to conduct them to breakfast, they looked refreshed; and, if it must be told, sped rather buoyantly to the eating room.
Here they found about twenty of the handmaids. These were walking up and down, awaiting the serving of the meal. All were pretty and graceful. Indeed, a few were beautiful. Their complexions varied from olive to red, their eyes were either gray, brown, or black; and the hair ranged from light brown to jet black. Thus, all looked curiously at Æole because of her auburn hair, blue eyes, and fair skin.