Horace, we do not know--I think that we shall never know.
But I admit that to me the thing is terrifying. I am drawn to her by
an infinite attraction, her eyes set my blood on fire, the touch of her
hand is as that of a wand of madness laid upon my brain. And yet between
us there is some wall, invisible, still present. Or perhaps it is only
fancy. But, Horace, I think that she is afraid of Atene. Why, in the
old days the Khania would have been dead and forgotten in an hour--you
remember Ustane?"
"Perhaps she may have grown more gentle, Leo, who, like ourselves, has
learned hard lessons."
"Yes," he answered, "I hope that is so. At any rate she has grown more
divine--only, Horace, what kind of a husband shall I be for that bright
being, if ever I get so far?"
"Why should you not get so far?" I asked angrily, for his words jarred
upon my tense nerves.
"I don't know," he answered, "but on general principles do you think
that such fortune will be allowed to a man? Also, what did Atene mean
when she said that man and spirit cannot mate--and--other things?"
"She meant that she _hoped_ they could not, I imagine, and, Leo, it is
useless to trouble yourself with forebodings that are more fitted to my
years than yours, and probably are based on nothing. Be a philosopher,
Leo. You have striven by wonderful ways such as are unknown in the
history of the world; you have attained.
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