within reach, nor could she have trusted any living creature with his secret.
She could not see him waste away for the bare need of food, and she was well aware how the poison mists that rose at sunset from every morass and every stream seized on empty viscera and impoverished blood.
She clung about his throat, and kissed him with tender passion; then she went.
She had lost her buoyant vigour of movement; she had felt unwell the last few weeks and did not know what ailed her; but she summoned her courage and her strength, walked to the coast, and there set sail in her little boat, that had the pine-bough at its prow. The morning was fine and calm; the sea was blue and so were the skies; there was no chance of foul weather. It would have been nearer to have crossed the country on foot to Telamone; but she did not feel as strong as usual, and the linen she had spun and the matting she had made were heavy to carry.
The sea was quiet; there was wind enough to fill her little sail, and what there was favoured her. Under the easy motion of the boat, with the play of air
