But for me there is no slumber,
For all night will I demand of the rose your message,
And the rose will reply, “I love thee! I love thee!”
“Thank you so much,” said Eunice, coming over to the piano. “I do not know what it means, but it sounds wonderfully charming.”
“It is a love-song.”
“I wish I had a translation of it.”
“I will translate it if you wish, Miss Dengelton,” said Crispin, by no means relishing the attention which Eunice was paying to the Greek.
“What! do you know Greek?”
“Modern Greek; yes. I have been in Greece a great deal.”
“A great deal,” echoed Caliphronas, with an evil smile.