“Why do you ask in that tone?” said Paulos, looking at me.
“Well, I have thought sometimes that they were more than friends or fast becoming so. He is one with whom any woman might desire more than friendship.”
Despite the fact that I knew Paulos so slightly, there was something about the old man that called for confidence, that sort of sympathy, of community of understanding, that a character like his calls out at the very first meeting.
“Yes; you are right. There are few women that would not be only too ready to give him much more than friendship should he seek it. And yet he is always very heart-whole or seems to be so. But, with you, I have sometimes thought that his heart is not so secure where Aryenis is concerned.”
“And hers?”
“It would take a far cleverer man than I to tell the state of a woman’s heart, more particularly when the heart belongs to such a one as Aryenis. Frankly, I know not. This I do know, that Milos and his wife very much wish that she and Andros should make a match of it. Kyrlos also would not be ill-pleased, though, provided the man was a good one, he would welcome any one Aryenis chose, since he desires nothing but her most complete happiness.”
“And you think—?”
“I think that, of all those I know, Andros is perhaps the one I would be most pleased to give my daughter to, if I had one. But, as to whether he is the one for Aryenis, I cannot make up my mind. Both are such outstandingly good representatives of their sex that I am not sure whether they would be best matched. Light calls to dark and like to unlike all through nature as I see it, and sometimes I think that these two are in many ways too alike for perfect mating. The greatest happiness comes more often from harmonious dissimilarity than from absolute agreement.”
“Yes. I have noticed that, too. These two are not unlike in many ways.”
We were both silent a little. I was looking over the trees at the great snow-peaks stabbing the cloud-flecked blue sky. Presently the white snow would turn rose-pink at the kiss of the setting sun. Some day, too, some one’s kisses would wake Aryenis and send the blood mantling to her white skin. Her words came back from the firelit hall at Aornos—“I think he did once, though I’m not sure—” I clenched my hand on the carved arm of my chair, and then was aware that Paulos was studying my face, and so came back out of my thoughts.