"But I have sometimes been afraid; and have blown into a poppy-leaf,
and struck it, as the young girls here do. If it broke with a loud crack
I was very happy, and cried, 'Ah! he will not forget!' but if the leaf
tore without a sound I felt sad. I dare say I did this a hundred times,
but generally the leaf gave the wished-for sound, and I had much oftener
reason to be joyful than sad."

"May it be ever thus!"

"It must be! but dearest, do not speak so loudly; I see Knakias going
down to the Nile for water and he will hear us."

"Well, I will speak low. There, I will stroke back your silky hair and
whisper in your ear 'I love you.' Could you understand?"

"My grandmother says that it is easy to understand what we like to hear;
but if you had just whispered, 'I hate you,' your eyes would have told me
with a thousand glad voices that you loved me. Silent eyes are much more
eloquent than all the tongues in the world."

"If I could only speak the beautiful Greek language as you do, I would.."

"Oh, I am so glad you cannot, for if you could tell me all you feel, I
think you would not look into my eyes so lovingly. Words are nothing.
Listen to the nightingale yonder! She never had the gift of speech and
yet I think I can understand her."

"Will you confide her secret to me? I should like to know what Gulgul,
as we Persians call the nightingale, has to talk about to her mate in the
rose-bush. May you betray her secret?"