e young girl, without answering
this greeting, gazed upward to the sky and sun as long as she could
endure the light, but her lips quivered, and she flung the rose she held
in her hand among its fellows in her lap.

Phaon had followed the direction of her look, and again broke the
silence, saying with a smile, no less quietly than before:

"Yes, indeed, the sun tells me I've been sleeping here a long time; it
is almost noon."

The youth's composure aroused a storm of indignation in Xanthe's breast.
Her excitable blood fairly seethed, and she was obliged to put the
utmost constraint upon herself not to throw her roses in his face.

But she succeeded in curbing her wrath, and displaying intense
eagerness, as she shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed toward some
ships that appeared in view.

"I don't know what is the matter with you," said Phaon, smoothing with
his right hand the black hair that covered half his forehead. "Do you
expect the ship from Messina and my father already?"

"And my cousin Leonax" replied the girl, quickly, putting a strong
emphasis upon the last name.

Then she again gazed into the distance. Phaon shook his head, and both
remained silent for several minutes. At last he raised himself higher,
turned his full face toward the young girl, gazed at her as tenderly
and earnestly as if he wished to stamp her image upon his soul for life,
gently pulled the long, floating sleeve of her peplum, and said:

"I didn't think it would be necessary--but I must ask you something."

While he spoke, Xanthe rested her right elbow on her knee, drummed on
her scarlet lips with her fingers, and clasped the back of the marble
bench with her out-stretched left arm.

Her eyes told him that she was ready to listen, though she still uttered
no word of reply.

"I have a question to ask you, Xanthe!" continued Phaon.

"You?" interrupted the girl, with visible astonishment.

"I, who else? Jason told me yesterday evening that our uncle Alciphron
had wooed you for his son Leonax, and was sure of finding a favorable
reception from old Semestre and your poor father. I went at once to ask
you if it were true, but turned back again, for there were other things
to be done, and I thought we belonged to each other, and you could not
love any one so well as you loved me. I don't like useless words, and
cannot tell you what is in my heart, but you knew it long ago. Now
you are watching for your cousin Leonax. We have neve