"Which one is to go?" the young man began. She sank down on a bench and turned her head wearily to the vineyard. Over the swaying tendrils of the vine, a dark line, a blue slab of salt water, made the horizon.
"Should I know?" her face said, mutely.
"He thinks you should," she spoke, calmly. "He has been talking two hours about you, your future, your brilliant performances——"
"That detained you!"
"He is plotting to make you a great man. You belong to the world, he said, and, the world would have you. They need you to plan and exhort, I believe."
"So you come to tell me—"
"Let us go out to the garden." She laid her hand reprovingly on his arm. "We can see the pictures later."
She took his arm and directed him down the arched walk between the vines, toward the purple sea.
"I did not realize that—that you were a little Ulysses. He warned me!"
"Indeed!"