“Yes, lady, that is Milordo’s ship. I have seen it in Therma harbour.”
“But why does he come here? Does he wish to renew the treaty of marriage?” demanded Angeliké.
“How can I tell, lady?” Petros assumed a deep air of wisdom. “At any rate, it can hardly be very agreeable for the Lady Danaë to meet him after what happened.”
“But did it happen?” flashed forth Angeliké.
Petros looked grieved. “Lady, you have asked, and I have answered. You know best whether the Lady Danaë desired to return to Strio. To me in my humility it appeared that she did not. If Milordo thought so too, may he not be visiting the island to show her what she has lost?”
“But that is insulting to us!” cried Angeliké.
“The English are like that, lady. They will take infinite pains to insult those they dislike. Nay, I have seen them show atrocious rudeness for mere wantonness.”
Angeliké went slowly away, a new plan beginning to shape itself in her mind. As a preliminary step, she took the precaution of a whispered warning to Princess Christodoridi. “Keep Danaë with you in the kitchen all the morning, my mother. If my father sees her, he will know that she does not intend to submit, and we don’t want him to be angry beforehand.”
Her mother agreed with nervous readiness, and as a result Danaë was kept hard at work making cakes and sweetmeats, with no opportunity of stealing upstairs to look at the distant ship. For herself Angeliké had reserved the task of preparing the pillared loggia, which served as an open-air sitting-room, for the afternoon’s ceremony. Sweeping and dusting, erecting a temporary altar for the blessing of the rings, and overseeing the servants as they beat up and arranged the cushions on the divan for the expected guests, she was elaborately busy, and constantly in her father’s sight. Her cheerful aspect forced itself upon his attention at last, and was no doubt welcome, since even Prince Christodoridi could scarcely deny that Angeliké had been hardly treated. He caught one of her plaits as she hurried past him, and pulled it with something like approval.
“What, weeper! are the tears dried?”