They moved toward it slowly, light as breath.
In the open doorway they paused. Above the tall buildings the grey rim of sky lifted itself. The child looked up to it. Her eyes returned to Achilles.
He nodded gravely.
She raised her hand with a little “p-f-f”—it was half a quick laugh and half a sigh.
The wings fluttered free, and rose and faltered, and rose again—high and higher, between the dark walls—up to the sky, into the grey—and through.
The eyes that had followed it came back to earth. They looked at each other and smiled gravely—two children who had seen a happy thing.
The child stood still with half-lifted hand.... A carriage drove quickly into the street. The little hand was lifted higher. It was a regal gesture—the return of the princess to earth.
James touched his hat—a look of dismay and relief battling in his face as he turned the horses sharply to the right. They paused in front of the stall, their hoofs beating dainty time to the coursing of their blood.
Achilles eyed them lovingly. The spirit of Athens dwelt in their arching necks.
He opened the door for the child with the quiet face and shining eyes. Gravely he salaamed as she entered the carriage.