"Why do you not run away? What keeps you here?"
"You ask many questions, stranger! Who can escape? To live is to remember. To die—oh, who would forget! Even had I been weeping, and not merely mocking time away, would my tears be of Lethe at my mouth's corners? No," said Anthea, "why feign and lie? All I am is but a memory lovely with regret."
She rose, and the myrtles concealed her from me. And I, in the midst of the dusk where the tiny torches burned sadly—I turned to the sightless eyes of that smiling god.
What he knew, being blind, yet smiling, I seemed to know then. But that also I have forgotten.
I whistled softly and clearly into the air, and a querulous voice answered me from afar—the voice of a grasshopper—Rosinante's.
V
How should I your true love know
From another one?
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
But even then she was difficult finding, so cunningly had ivy and blackberry and bindweed woven snares for the trespasser's foot.