“Then his eyes grew soft like and he gave me not silver, but gold.
“‘Bribe ’em, Baltè, and get in,’ says he, laughin’. You know the way he does. ‘There’s no slave in the world but will take a bribe. When that’s gone come to me for more’.”
“Good, dear Lycophron,” said Theria, loving him tenderly.
She leaned closer. Already her face was changed by this touch of home. She asked lovingly after father and mother, even each slave of the household.
“Tell me, Baltè——” she said at last, then stopped. It was the first time she had ever spoken this name to any one.
“Did he ever come again—Eëtíon who met me in the lane?”
“Shame upon you. Do you think I’d be bringin’ you love messages, you, a priestess of Apollo?”
Theria hid her face, shivering.
“No—no. Oh, Baltè, I would not want messages. How can you think that of me? And I did not mean to ask.”
Poor child, only her own sense of right would uphold her now. She had no longer any fear of the god.