“Do I remember! My mother will never be the same person again, we gave her such a shock. Adraste, she still thinks I hadn’t met you before; she insists she never asked you to help with the water-jar.”

“Well, even if we hadn’t met before, you might have come out.”

“Mother thinks not—she thinks you bewitched me, got me there by magic. In a way she’s right. But she oughtn’t to say she didn’t ask you to help, that other time.”

“She didn’t notice me, I suppose, Damastor—her mind was on the jar of water.”

“You mean, she didn’t notice how beautiful you were. When she saw that, the day in the garden, she was afraid of you.”

“Am I so terrible, Damastor?”

“Fatal, I should say.”

“It’s love that’s fatal, Damastor … Damastor, have you thought out any plan for us yet—what we’re to do?”

“I think of it all the time, Adraste, and the best thing still seems to wait a little longer, and keep our happiness, our happy secret, to ourselves. We couldn’t be happier than we have been, and are—could we? The responsibility is mine, and I think I can manage my parents best if I don’t break the news too suddenly; they’re both very stubborn over any unexpected news they don’t like. I can’t think what else to do.”

“Damastor, my dear lover, it’s a happy secret, as you say—but I can’t keep it much longer.”

“You mean—you mean—”

“Of course I mean! There, don’t be so frightened. I told you before, and now it’s dawning on you, as our love did—it is our love again, isn’t it! In a little while everyone will know. Why shouldn’t they? I’m happy and proud, Damastor; it’s altogether beautiful. But I wish it weren’t a secret! Why shouldn’t we go right out and say to any who will listen, Damastor and Adraste are given to each other, given by their love, forever? I don’t see what they could do, except envy us. Your mother wouldn’t like me at first—she loves you too much to care for any girl who takes you away—but in time I could make her like me. Your father would be kind to us.”

“Father would be kind, if he were alone,” said Damastor, “but mother would be harder to convert than you think. She didn’t like your beauty, to start with; she thinks that all beautiful women are probably bad, and if she knew what—what you just told me—she’d be sure her theory was sound. I’m sorry, Adraste, but it’s a fact. She wouldn’t understand. I keep hoping that if we wait there may be some way out. There’ll be none if I speak now.”