“Like this white one of mine?”
“No, more’s the pity,” said Crispin, with a laughing glance at the simple white garment; “if all gowns were of that style, the bills would not be so large, and husbands would frown less. Well, Maurice, and what says the Rector?”
“He declines to commit himself to an opinion until he sees Melnos with his own eyes,” said Maurice, putting the letter in his pocket, “and is coming out especially to see the new Hellas. There, uncle, is that not a compliment?”
“I will be glad to see Mr. Carriston,” observed Justinian a little stiffly, as Maurice thought. “Crispin, did Georgios see anything of Alcibiades?”
“No, nothing.”
“Or hear anything?”
“Not a word.”
“They must be keeping all their preparations very quiet,” muttered the Demarch to himself as he went inside; “but, for all that, I believe an attack will take place within the week.”
The party on the terrace broke up after his withdrawal, leaving Alexandros still busy at his electric apparatus, which was in complete order by night-time. After a merry supper, every one came out again on to the terrace to make experiments with the light, and Alexandros went away to look after his dynamo.
Such a still night as it was, with not a breath of air to cool the hot atmosphere, and the sky in the shimmering heat seemed closer to the earth than usual. No moon was yet in the heavens, but the dark blue vault was bright with innumerable stars, large and mellow, like tropical constellations. The valley below was in complete shadow, not the glimmer of a white-walled house being visible, and the sides of the gigantic cup which formed the crater of the volcano were veiled in diaphanous darkness. So intensely quiet was everything, that even the nightingales were silent, and there seemed something awesome in this breathless stillness of Nature, as though the whole earth were dead, and only the handful of people assembled there alive.