safe, perfectly
safe, yet the blue gown moved where the heart thumped beneath it.

A whistle came floating down the valley to her. It was merry and
quick, but it struck terror to the girl's breast. That meant a man.
She stood and watched, with terrified gray eyes, and presently she saw
him: he was crashing through a heavy undergrowth of bush and fern not
far away. Daphne gathered her skirts in one hand and fled. She ran as
only an athletic girl can run, swiftly, gracefully. Her skirt fluttered
behind her; her soft dark hair fell and floated on the wind.

The whistle did not cease, though the man was motionless now. It
changed from its melody of sheer joy to wonder, amazement, suspense.
It took on soothing tones; it begged, it wheedled. So a mother would
whistle, if mothers whistled, over the cradle of a crying child, but
the girl did not stop. She was running up a hill, and at the top she
stood, outlined in blue, against a bluer sky. A moment later she was
gone.

Half an hour passed. Cautiously above the top of the hill appeared a
girl's head. She saw what she was looking for: the dreaded man was
sitting on the stump of a felled birch tree, gazing down the valley,
his cheeks resting on his hands. Daphne, stealing behind a giant ilex,
studied him. He wore something that looked like a golf suit of
brownish shade; a soft felt hat drooped over his face. The girl peered
out from her hiding place cautiously, holding her skirts together to
make herself slim and small. It was a choice of evils. On this side
of the hill was a man; on that, the whole wide world, pathless. She
was hopelessly lost.

"No bad man could whistle like that," thought Daphne, caressingly
touching with her cheek the tree that protected her.

Once she ventured from her refuge, then swiftly retreated. Courage
returning, she stepped out on tiptoe and crept softly toward the
intruder. She was rehearsing the Italian phrases she meant to use.

"Where is Rome?" she asked pleadingly, in the Roman tongue.

The stranger rose, with no sign of being startled, and removed his hat.
Then Daphne sighed a great sigh of relief, feeling that she was safe.

"Rome," he answered, in a voice both strong and sweet, "Rome has
perished, and Athens too."

"Oh"--said the girl. "You speak English. If you are not a stranger
here, perhaps you can tell me where the Villa Accolanti is."

"I can," he replied, preparing to lead the way.

Daphne looked at him