A moonlit night and zephyrs wafted in; an easy chair, and no one looking on. Two in shadow, gazing upon legendary Greece; talking mythology such as they alone could understand; feeling fluctuations of quite another kind.
A convalescent lassie, and a sympathizing lad, old friends for at least a year, it seemed as if from childhood. A timely aid, and a grateful maid; compliments in words, and nature’s complementary. A man’s stout heart, and a woman’s tender sympathy, sincerity and truth.
The conditions were favorable.
What else?
A secret, a secret to all but Cupid who stood behind a celestial-rose bush on the heights nearby, his bow and arrows ready. An event not to be seen by the binoculars of newsy gossips, nor even perceived by the mental eyes of inquisitives. All is left to the spiritual discernment of those who have loved.
What actually occurred during that heavenly evening when they drifted upon the bosom of the Adriatic, when the stars shone brightly or when cloud-draperies hid some endearing charm, can only fully be known to two (and the divinities), these two nature’s lovely, lovable and loved. But sure it is, before the evening closed, Aphrodite again arose from the sea, a Vision of Loveliness. Gliding by in her graceful shell, floating amid foam on the crest of a wave, illumined by a divine radiance, she threw a kiss of affection, the signal. And from behind the celestial-rose bush sped Love’s Arrow, borne upon the wings of the unseen. As this sweet messenger enters the hearts of those ready to respond, so it was welcomed by Adele and Paul, reclining beneath the brow of Olympus.
XXVI
INTERMEZZO—ALLEGRO
OH, that voyage! From the brow of Olympus, across the Mediterranean, down the Roseate Sea, the two lovers journeyed. As they skirted the shore, never did delicate tints upon a sapphire surface give back more heavenly reflections! Those sunny days, under double awnings, when none dared look at a thermometer lest he himself should melt away. Those first-magnitude starlit nights when sleeping on deck, with glimpses of others passing like spooks in the dark; and in the distance, on “P. and O.” boats, the invisible friends known to be there.
The last glimpse of Boreas was in a storm brewing off in the direction of the Ægean Sea. Some thought they saw him in propria-persona, gesticulating upon the high cliffs of Candia as the vessel sailed by in the teeth of the wind, but this individual proved to be merely a Turkish brigand, one of the gang which infested that region.
But are not all such minor incidents already recorded in the chronicles of the Cultus family for publication in future genealogical records? How at Alexandria the Doctor took little interest in the modern city upon the island of Pharos, but much interest in the Ancient Library with no books left! How, since said Library was destroyed some time ago, Paul and Adele managed to reconstruct a brand new temple with lamps, incense, and priests—all complete, to say nothing of singing birds, and vestal virgins each carrying a sieve instead of a lamp! How Miss Winchester met the Four Hundred élite of Alexandria at the base of Pompey’s Pillar, and was kodaked by Paul with the four hundred gamins at her feet, asking for backsheesh; this historic picture labeled, “Hypatia Addressing the Multitude. A. D. MDCCCLXXXXIX.” How Mrs. Cultus took in the situation from a barouche, positively refusing to set foot on the sward of a country famous for asps and beetles; and also how Mrs. Cultus announced that Cleopatra’s relish for pearls was in good taste, only it carried her too far. How the unfortunate noseless Sphynx turned up her nose, as usual, at all innocents abroad; and how Mrs. Cultus, when entering the memorial bridal chamber of Cheops, slipped upon the inclined staircase which leads thereto, and fell into the arms of a modern bridegroom—a young sheik. How the Professor stood upon the apex of Cheops and took notes, alternate notes upon lichens which grew there, and upon Memphis where it once was. Is it not also recorded among the archives of modern Egypt how, during the period of occupation of Shepherd’s, cards were left in due form upon Pharaoh’s mummy in the Boulak Museum; and how Mrs. Cultus received in turn a scarab, and some little scarabei, of Manchester manufacture, taken from the left pocket of Pharaoh’s forty-second cousin, after reposing there since A. D. 1492 (some said from 4000 B. C.)—a slight token of regard from the Pharonic dynasty to the latest Republic on earth? Was it not recorded also at the time, in the society column of the “Pyramid Times,” that “Miss Pearline Cultus and Mr. Adolph Warder were last seen behind an umbrella on the top of the Pyramid with their feet hanging over the top step?” probably the most conspicuous perch on the globe for two lovers.