“Yes, Father. Dear, dear Father,” came her answer. No trace of fear or unaffection for all his angry words which had sent her away. She reached out her arms to him like a returning child.
Baltè clapped her hands with loud sobs and shoutings. She, too, must kiss and rejoice over her little one.
“Baltè,” said Nikander solemnly, “may the gods in my age give me such wisdom as yours. For my part I shall never question yours again. So now, dear Baltè, go and fetch Melantho.”
Melantho came, and Dryas. One would have thought to hear the rejoicings in the house that no Persians were anywhere in Greece. Then presently Baltè was for sending them all away. They must not tire her darling.
Theria clung to her lover’s hands. “Will you come again, Eëtíon?” she pleaded. “Say you will come again.”
Nikander doubtfully opened his lips but Baltè waved a warning finger.
“Indeed an’ he will, my darlin’,” she said with authority. “Old Baltè will see that he does.”
And Eëtíon, leaping up, kissed Baltè’s withered cheek, at which Theria’s first sweet laugh was heard.