"The American critic," said I, "is usually female but not necessarily
feminine in sex. It is what is reverently known as 'a good woman'--and
like a truffle-hound its nose for immorality is so keen that it can
discover a bad smell where there isn't any."
Thusis threw back her head and yielded to laughter unrestrained.
"So you think there was nothing immoral in sitting on the stairs with
you in my nightie?"
"Was there?"
"Of course not. Clean minds are independent of clothes. As for
clothing, I often wish these were Greek times and I were rid of all my
duds except sandals and a scarf."
"It's all very well for you to wish that, Thusis, but consider the
spectacle of the Princess Pudelstoff, for example, in Olympian
attire----"
And Thusis went off into a gale of laughter, endangering our mutual
stability on the camp-stool. Which scared her,--an unpremeditated bath
in the pool having been narrowly averted--and she said again that it was
silly of us to sit there like a pair of imbecile dicky-birds.
"Then tune up, Thusis. You seem to know a lot of songs. I liked that
odd, weird, sweet little song you kept singing about Naxos and Tenedos."
"I didn't suppose you noticed it, Michael."
"I notice everything concerning you."
Looking at her sideways I saw the charming color deepen in her cheeks.
"Is that paying court to you or making love to you?" I added.
"I don't know. Somehow, when you pay court to me, you make it sound
like--the other thing."
"But I _am_ in love----"
"Wait," she said hastily. "I'll sing another funny song--the same sort
of song you found so amusing--about Naxos and Tenedos. It is called
'Invocations.'"
As a little bird looks up to heaven after every sip of water, so Thusis
looked up after inspiration had sufficiently saturated her. She lifted
her pretty voice as clearly and sweetly as a linnet sings in the falling
rain:
"Wine poured out to Aphrodite,
On thy sacred sands,
In libations to the mighty
Blue-eyed goddess Aphrodite
Perfumes all thy strands,
Scents the meadows and thy woodlands,
Tenedos, my Tenedos!
Every maiden understands
Why each flowering orchard close
Swims with fragrance of the rose.
Votive wine that long ago
Set thy sacred soil aglow
Sweetens still each Grecian nose
In Tenedos, my Tenedos!