he hills of Kronos a murmur as of distant voices whispering the
message of Eternity, the keeper of the house of the Hermes was disturbed
in a profound reverie by the sound of slow footfalls not far from his
dwelling. He stirred, lifted his head and stared vaguely about him. No
travelers had come of late to the shrine he guarded. Hermes had been
alone with the child upon his arm, dreaming of its unclouded future with
the serenity of one who had trodden the paths where the gods walk, and
who could rise at will above the shadowed ways along which men creep
in anxiety, dreading false steps and the luring dangers of their fates.
Hermes had been alone with his happy burden, forgotten surely by the
world which his delicate majesty ignored without disdain. But now
pilgrims, perhaps from a distant land, were drawing near to look upon
him, to spend a little while in the atmosphere of his shining calm,
perhaps to learn something of the message he had to give to those who
were capable of receiving it.

A man and a woman, moving slowly side by side, came into the patch of
strong sunshine which made a glory before the house, paused there and
stood still.

From the shadow in which he was sitting the guardian examined them with
the keen eyes of one who had looked upon travelers of many nations. He
knew at once that the woman was English. As for the man--yes, probably
he was English too, Dark, lean, wrinkled, he was no doubt an Englishman
who had been much away from his own country, which the guardian
conceived of as wrapped in perpetual fogs and washed by everlasting
rains.

The guardian stared hard at this man, then turned his bright eyes again
upon the woman. As he looked at her some recollection began to stir in
his mind.

Not many travelers came twice to the green recesses of Elis. He was
accustomed to brief acquaintanceships, closed by small gifts of money,
and succeeded by farewells which troubled his spirit not at all. But
this woman seemed familiar to him; and even the man----

He got up from his seat and went towards them.

As he came into the sunlight the woman saw him and smiled. And, when she
smiled, he knew he had seen her before. The deep gravity of her face as
she approached had nearly tricked his memory, but now he remembered all
about her. She was the beautiful fair Englishwoman who had camped on
the hill of Drouva not so many years ago, who had gone out shooting with
that young rascal, Dirmikis, and who had spe