Instead he said:  “Are you really sleepy?”

“No.”

“Then—­”

“I dare not—­to-night.”

“For any particular reason?”

“For a thousand....  One is that I simply can’t believe you are really going North to-morrow.  Why do you?” She had asked it nearly a thousand times.

“I’ve got to begin Portlaw’s park; and, besides, my work here is over—­”

“Is that all you care about me?  Oh, you are truly like the real Ulysses: 

    “Now toils the hero, trees on trees o’erthrown
    Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan!”

Do you remember, in the Odyssey, when poor Calypso begs him to remain?

    “Thus spoke Calypso to her god-like guest: 
    ’This shows thee, friend, by old experience taught,
      And learn’d in all the wiles of human thought,
    How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise! 
    Thus wilt thou leave me?  Are we thus to part? 
    Is Portlaw’s Park the passion of thy heart?’”

Laughing, he answered in the Grecian verse: 

    “Whatever the gods shall destine me to bear,
    ’Tis mine to master with a constant mind;
    Inured to peril, to the worst resigned,
    Still I can suffer; their high will be done.”

From the soft oval of her face the smile faded, but her voice was still carelessly gay: 

“And so he went away.  But, concerning his nymph, Calypso, further Homer sayeth not.  Yet—­in the immortal verse it chanced to be he, not she, who was—­married....  And I think I’ll retire now—­if you have nothing more agreeable to say to me—­”

“I have; in the garden—­”

“No, I dare not risk it to-night.  The guards are about—­”

“It is my last night here—­”

“We will see each other very soon in New York.  And I’ll be up in the morning to drive you to the station—­”

“But, Shiela, dear—­”

“There was a bad nigger hanging around the groves last night and our patrols are out....  No, it’s too risky.  Besides—­”

“Besides—­what?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

He said, tenderly impatient: 

“You little witch of Ogygia, come into the patio then, and do your thinking and let me make love to you.”

But she would not raise her eyes, standing there in the rose lamplight, the perverse smile still edging her lips.

“Calypso,” he repeated persuasively.

“No....  Besides, I have nothing to offer you, Ulysses....  You remember what the real Calypso offered the real Ulysses if he’d remain with her in Ogygia?”

“Eternal youth and love?” He bent over the table, moving his hand to cover hers where it rested in the lamplight.  “You have given me eternity in love already,” he said.

“Have I?” But she would not lift her eyes....  “Then why make love to me if you have it ready-made for you?”

“Will you come?”