“Can you tell me nothing of her life or tastes?”
“The first night she came here she came with her lover. Then she came by herself, and she has promised to come and see me again.”
“Do you know any other friend of hers in the gardens?”
“Yes; a woman from her country——Chimairis, a poor woman.”
“Where does she live? I want to see her.”
“She sleeps in the wood. She has done so for a year. She sold her house. But I know where her nest is, and I can take you there if you wish. Put on my sandals for me, please.”
Demetrios rapidly fastened the leather thongs of the sandals upon Melitta’s little feet, and they went out together.
They walked for some distance. The park was immense. Here and there a girl beneath a tree called out her name as they passed. Melitta knew a few, whom she embraced without stopping. As she passed a worn altar she gathered three large flowers from the grass and placed them on the stone.
It was not yet quite dark. The intense light of the summer days has something durable about it which vaguely lingers in the dusk. The sprinkling of small stars, hardly brighter than the sky itself, twinkled gently, and the shadows of the branches remained vague and indefinite.
“Ah!” said Melitta, “here is mother.”