"How fearless! Yet he is subtler than the snake in Eden. I fear him as I detest him."
"Why fear him?"
"That I cannot tell. Some secret sign, some unspeakable intuition, assures me of injury through him."
"Dearest, put it by. The strength of all these surrounding leagues with their swarm does not flow through his wrist, as it does through mine. He is more powerless than the mote in the air."
"You are so confident!" she said.
"How can I be anything else than confident? The very signs in the sky speak for us, and half the priests are ours, and the land itself is an oath. Look out, Lenore! Look down on these purple fields that so sweetly are taking nightfall; look on these rills that braid the landscape and sing toward the sea; see yonder the row of columns that have watched above the ruins of their temple for centuries, to wait this hour; behold the heaven, that, lucid as one dome of amethyst, darkens over us and blooms in star on star;—was ever such beauty? Ah, take this wandering wind,—was ever such sweetness? And since every inch of earth is historic,—since here rose glory to fill the world with wide renown,—since here the heroes walked, the gods came down,—since Oreads haunt the hill, and Nereïds seek the shore"—
"Whereabout do Nereïds seek the shore?" she archly asked.
"Why, if you must have data," I answered, laughing, "let us say Naples."
"What is that you have to say of Naples?" demanded a voice in the door-way,—and turning, I confronted the Neapolitan.
She had started back at the abrupt apparition, and before she could recover, stung by rage and surprise I had replied,—