He looked down admiringly and protectively on the pure sweet face, the downcast eyelids, the long lashes shading the round, rosy cheeks.
“You are certainly terribly experienced in the ways of the world!” he said. “I suppose our mother will always be as young as the angels. But I think the world itself is so very old just now, that we who belong to this generation are born old, and the older people who belonged to nobler and better times are young with the youth of that younger world.”
“How can we help it?” she said. “This miserable world of slaves from every race that lives close to us, and cheats and lies and talks wicked talk! No dull, ignorant boors, but clever, keen-witted Greeks and Syrians! How can we help learning evil from them? what can we do to become young again?”
“I am going among the young nations, my beloved,” he replied, “who are pouring in on our old Rome.”
“To fight them back!” she said.
“Perhaps also to learn from them,” he replied. “When I come back, if I come back, I will tell you what I have learned. Perhaps I shall find the Fountain of Youth, and drink of it, and come back young! And if I do, I will be sure to bring a cup of its precious waters for thee.”
