o obey me?" Leoline, fearing to disobey
her, replied, "I am resolved." And so, in that one short sentence, was
the matchless Marina doomed to an untimely death. She now approached,
with a basket of flowers in her hand, which she said she would daily
strew over the grave of good Lychorida. The purple violet and the
marigold should as a carpet hang upon her grave, while summer days did
last. "Alas, for me!" she said, "poor unhappy maid, born in a tempest,
when my mother died. This world to me is like a lasting storm,
hurrying me from my friends." "How now, Marina," said the dissembling
Dionysia, "do you weep alone? How does it chance my daughter is not
with you? Do not sorrow for Lychorida, you have a nurse in me. Your
beauty is quite changed with this unprofitable woe. Come, give me your
flowers, the sea-air will spoil them; and walk with Leoline: the air
is fine, and will enliven you. Come, Leoline, take her by the arm,
and walk with her." "No, madam," said Marina, "I pray you let me
not deprive you of your servant:" for Leoline was one of Dionysia's
attendants. "Come, come," said this artful woman, who wished for a
pretence to leave her alone with Leoline, "I love the prince, your
father, and I love you. We every day expect your father here; and when
he comes, and finds you so changed by grief from the paragon of beauty
we reported you, he will think we have taken no care of you. Go,
I pray you, walk, and be cheerful once again. Be careful of that
excellent complexion, which stole the hearts of old and young."
Marina, being thus importuned, said, "Well, I will go, but yet I
have no desire to it." As Dionysia walked away, she said to Leoline,
"_Remember what I have said!_"--shocking words, for their meaning was
that he should remember to kill Marina.

Marina looked towards the sea, her birthplace, and said, "Is the wind
westerly that blows?" "South-west," replied Leoline. "When I was born
the wind was north," said she: and then the storm and tempest, and all
her father's sorrows, and her mother's death, came full into her mind;
and she said, "My father, as Lychorida told me, did never fear, but
cried, _Courage, good seamen_, to the sailors, galling his princely
hands with the ropes, and, clasping to the mast, he endured a sea
that almost split the deck." "When was this?" said Leoline. "When I
was born," replied Marina: "never were waves nor wind more violent."
And then she described the storm, the action of the sailors,