“I have been unkind. Oh, I have been cruel to you.”
“Never cruel,” he said. “Only a child whom the gods must teach.”
“They have taught me. They have taught me,” she answered.
But now Baltè recovered from amazement, and was shaking Theria’s arm.
“Oh, Missy, Missy, come back with Baltè. Wicked child, you deceived me.”
“Yes, yes, Baltè,” she said, tender even toward her old nurse, “I will come. Eëtíon will not harm me. He is good, good.”
At this confession of faith the youth kissed her afresh.
But Baltè was not to be baulked. “Missy, please, please, for Apollo’s sake,” she cried, again shaking Theria. “How can you, you who are to be Pythia to-morrow?”
“Pythia,” repeated the lover. “What does she mean? Theria, that is not true!”