'Boats have been sighted, setting out from Herakleion; I suppose they think they will take us by surprise. You know, I have told off two men to look after you; you are to go into the little hut which is prepared for you in the very centre of the island. They will never land, and you will be perfectly safe there. I will let you know directly they are driven off. You must let me go, darling.' 'Oh, but you? but you?' she cried desperately. 'They won't come near me,' he replied laughing. 'Julian, Julian,' she said, holding on to his coat as he tried to loosen her fingers, 'Julian, I want you to know: you're all my life, I give you myself, on whatever terms you like, for ever if you like, for a week if you like; you can do with me whatever you choose; throw me away when you've done with me; you think me worthless; I care only for you in the world.' He was astonished at the starkness and violence of the passion in her eyes and voice. 'But I am not going into any danger,' he said, trying to soothe her. 'For God's sake, kiss me,' she said, distraught, and seeing that he was impatient to go. 'I'll kiss you to-night,' he answered tempestuously, with a ring of triumph as one who takes a decision. 'No, no: now.' He kissed her hair, burying his face in its thickness. 'This attack is a comedy, not a tragedy,' he called back to her as he ran down the stairs. The sentry who had first sighted the fleet of boats was still standing upon his headland, leaning on his rifle, and straining his eyes over the sea. Julian saw him thus silhouetted against the morning sky. Day was breaking as Julian came up the mule-path, a score of islanders behind him, walking with the soft, characteristic swishing of their white woollen skirts, and the slight rattle of slung rifles. All paused at the headland, which was above a little rocky creek; the green and white water foamed gently below. Out to sea the boats were distinctly visible, dotted about the sea, carrying each a load of men; there might be twenty or thirty, with ten or fifteen men in each. 'They must be out of their senses,' Tsigaridis growled; 'their only hope would have lain in a surprise attack at night--which by the present moonlight would indeed have proved equally idle--but at present they but expose themselves to our butchery.' 'The men are all at their posts?' Julian asked.