When Baltè rose to go Theria threw arms about her.
“You’ll come again. Promise that you’ll come again.”
“Surely will I. Oh, there, I’m most forgettin’ the message Lycophron sent you. ‘It’s an oracle,’ says he, laughin’. ‘I can give oracles as well as any one. You tell Theria: “Keep up heart. Argos has become Delphi for her sake.”’ It’s a queer message that.”
“‘Argos has become Delphi,’” she repeated, puzzled. “Argos, Argos. Could it be the Argive?”
Theria began to laugh softly, her eyes full of tears, clinging to Baltè and kissing her.
“Darling old Baltè,” she said. “Darling, dear old Baltè.”
“He said you’d like it,” said the old slave, nodding her head.
Oh, dangerous message. Lycophron did not look ahead. He meant to be kind.