'No,' he said; 'their love for you must be some strange and enslaving passion, since they will submit to death if only they may hear your voice. That is not true love, but a fatal madness.' 'But if mortals feel love for one another,' she asked,'_they_ must die, must they not?' 'The love of a man for a maiden who is gentle and good does not kill--even when it is most hopeless,' he said; 'and where she feels it in return, it is well for both, for their lives will flow on together in peace and happiness.' He had spoken softly, with a far away look in his eyes that did not escape the siren. 'And you love one of your mortal maidens like that?' she asked. 'Is she more beautiful than I am?' 'She is mortal,' he said, 'but she is fair and gracious, my maiden; and it is she who has my love, and will have it while I live.' 'And yet,' she said, with a mocking smile, 'I could make you forget her.' Her childlike waywardness had left her as she spoke the words, and a dangerous fire was shining in her deep eyes. 'Never!' he cried; 'even you cannot make me false to my love! And yet,' he added quickly, 'I dare not challenge you, enchantress that you are; what is my will against your power?' 'You do not love me yet,' she said; 'you have called me cruel, and reproached me; you have dared to tell me of a maiden compared with whom I am nothing! You shall be punished. I will have you for my own, like the others!' 'Siren,' he pleaded, seizing one of her hands as it lay close to him on the hot grey rock, 'take my life if you will--but do not drive away the memory of my love; let me die, if I must die, faithful to her; for what am I, or what is my love, to you?' 'Nothing,' she said scornfully, and yet with something of a caress in her tone, 'yet I want you; you shall lie here, and hold my hand, and look into my eyes, and forget all else but me.' 'Let me go,' he cried, rising, and turning back to regain his bark; 'I choose life while I may!' She laughed. 'You have no choice,' she said; 'you are mine!' she seemed to have grown still more radiantly, dazzlingly fair, and presently, as the stranger made his way to the creek where his boat was lying, she broke into the low soft chant whose subtle witchery no mortals had ever resisted as yet. He started as he heard her, but still he went on over the rocks a little longer, until at last he stopped with a groan, and turned slowly back; his love across the sea was fading fast from his memory; he felt no desire to escape any longer; he was even eager at last to be back on the ledge at her feet and listen to her for ever. He reached it and sank down with a sigh, and a drowsy delicious languor stole over him, taking away all power to stir or speak. Her song was triumphant and mocking, and yet strangely tender at times, thrilling him as he heard it, but her eyes only rested now and then, and always indifferently, upon his upturned face.