“I have been a dreamer,” he said, “but I have played the traitor to my dreams. I suppose it was inevitable in a land such as this. One cannot always stand with one’s back to the wall and fight orthodox dullards. I have not the energy to exist as a living protest against Philistinism. We men are often fools. Have you ever read of Tantalus?”
She pondered a moment and her face lightened.
“Tantalus?”
“The man in hades.”
“Who clutched at grapes when thirst tormented him, but was baffled ever.”
“Even so.”
“Cursed by the gods.”
“I am Tantalus,” he said.
She looked into the woods, solemn as a prophetess lost in dreams. A cloud had fallen upon Gabriel’s face. The girl felt its presence, though she had not looked into his eyes again.
“I should not have imagined it,” she said; “you did not seem to me to be unhappy.”