The soul of the Greek lives oftentimes in the Italian, though it lives benighted and struggling in bonds and unconscious of itself.
She left the mirror still lying on the grass and went within. She took some food in one of the earthen jars and went towards his chamber.
'Are you arisen?' she called softly.
He answered her feebly:
'I cannot rise; my limbs seem made of stone. I fear the chills have got into my very bones; I am in great pain———'
She went forward to his side.
'Our marshes will do that sometimes,' she said, with a soft pity in her eyes, like that which came there when she saw a hunted bird or beast and could not save it. 'I have seen that malady; it is as though your whole body were frozen; but if you have not much fever it may pass. I have brought some good food—eat it.'
She held the earthen holkion, and a wooden spoon, towards him, and he took a little of her broth and said that it was good, and then took more.
With the momentarily revived forces that came to him after the food, he drew a
