"Tell me this precious hero's name, and though all the dogs of
the underworld come to course me, you shall take my boat, and leave me
here--only this hero's name, a pedlar's bargain!"
She lowered her lids. "It must be Diomed," she said with the least
sigh.
"It must be," I said.
"Nay, then, Antenor, or truly Thersites," she said happily, "the
silver-tongued!"
"Good-bye, then," I said.
"Good-bye," she replied very gently. "Why, how could there be a vow
between us? I go, and return. You await me--me, Criseyde, Traveller,
the lonely-hearted. That is the little all, O much-surrendering
Stranger! Would that long-ago were now--before all chaffering!"
Again a thousand questions rose to my tongue. She looked sidelong at
the dry fountain, and one and all fell silent.
"It is harsh, endless labour beneath the burning sun; storms and
whirlwinds go about the sea, and the deep heaves with monsters."
"Oh, sweet danger!" she said, mocking me.
I turned from her without a word, like an angry child, and made my way
to the steps into the sea, pulled round my boat into a little haven
beside them, and shewed her oars and tackle and tiller; all the toil,
and peril, the wild chances.
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