Little Clara accompanied us; the poor child did not well understand what

was going forward. She heard that we were bound for Greece, that she would

see her father, and now, for the first time, she prattled of him to her

mother.

On landing at Athens we found difficulties encrease upon us: nor could the

storied earth or balmy atmosphere inspire us with enthusiasm or pleasure,

while the fate of Raymond was in jeopardy. No man had ever excited so

strong an interest in the public mind; this was apparent even among the

phlegmatic English, from whom he had long been absent. The Athenians had

expected their hero to return in triumph; the women had taught their

children to lisp his name joined to thanksgiving; his manly beauty, his

courage, his devotion to their cause, made him appear in their eyes almost

as one of the ancient deities of the soil descended from their native

Olympus to defend them. When they spoke of his probable death and certain

captivity, tears streamed from their eyes; even as the women of Syria

sorrowed for Adonis, did the wives and mothers of Greece lament our English

Raymond--Athens was a city of mourning.

All these shews of despair struck Perdita with affright. With that sanguine

but confused expectation, which desire engendered while she was at a

distance from reality, she had formed an image in her mind of instantaneous

change, when she should set her foot on Grecian shores. She fancied that

Raymond would already be free, and that her tender attentions would come to

entirely obliterate even the memory of his mischance. But his fate was

still uncertain; she began to fear the worst, and to feel that her soul's

219

The Last Man