“We are going to Sparta,” he said.

“I fear we are not,” said Helen.

“We will hold to the course,” said her husband, “and unless the stars are disarranged in this much troubled world, we shall arrive in Sparta in a week. That will be excellent time, don’t you think?” he asked the helmsman.

“It took us longer to reach Troy on the way out,” said the helmsman.

“When I went to Troy,” said Helen, “it took only three days, but that was an exceptional voyage.”

Thereafter the rowers bent to the oars and the helmsman read the sun and the stars. At first Helen would look at Menelaus from time to time, serene enough, but as though she could say something if it were worth while to do so. After many days she only sat motionless, gazing far ahead across the sea, and the oarsmen kept their patient eyes on her, as though she and they were faithful to something Menelaus could not understand. He passed the time feeling lonely, and wondering whether the water and the food would hold out.

“Ah, there is Sparta at last,” he said.

“I doubt it,” said Helen.

As a matter of fact it was Egypt. Helen walked ashore on the narrow bridge the sailors held for her, as though one always landed in Egypt. The wind died completely. The weary men set up the king’s tent and shelters for themselves, and went to sleep. Menelaus could not remember that he had given orders for disembarking, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t like to ask.

“This famous land is more interesting than I had thought,” said Helen some weeks later. “In my afternoon walks I have met several of the natives, and they seem to have reached here an average of culture somewhat above our best in Sparta, don’t you think?”

“Helen, you exasperate me,” said Menelaus. “I’m not here to tour the country nor to compare civilisations.”

“Of course you aren’t, nor I either,” said Helen, “and when you are ready to sail you have only to tell me. Meanwhile, Polydamna, the wife of that substantial man who sold you the food for our next voyage, is teaching me her skill in herbs and medicines—a good skill to have in any house, and here they all seem to have it. Unless you offer sacrifices in the next few days, I shall learn much of what she knows.”

“I will make no more sacrifices,” said Menelaus. “The wind will rise of itself.”

“Then I shall learn it all before we go,” said Helen.

After a fortnight or thereabouts, she saw him one day coming from the house of Thonis, Polydamna’s husband, with a small lamb under his cloak. While he called the men to a quiet spot and sacrificed the animal, she kept herself discreetly in the tent. Menelaus found her there.

“Be prepared to sail to-morrow,” he said, “in case a wind should rise.”

She was ready, and the wind rose, but it turned out to be only a frail breeze, young and short-lived. As they reached the island of Pharos it died altogether.