Nikander’s head bowed lower. He had forgotten this further obstacle that Eëtíon was a metic. The union was impossible. From every side, impossible. With grieving face Nikander turned and left Eëtíon where he stood.
CHAPTER XXXV
THERIA TELLS HER VISION
Nikander’s care was now to save as much of his household treasure as might be. Before this time his anxiety over his children had so beset him that he cared little whether anything else was saved or not. But now he set slaves to packing the family records, the old Nikander drinking vessels of gold and silver, and the stores of corn, oil, and wine. Theria’s storeroom soon bore a changed aspect.
Then the most faithful slaves he sent with these things up into the mountain to the Korykian cave.
But even with this business Nikander found time to go ever and again to Theria’s bedside to stop perhaps but for a single caress or word or question.
Theria was sitting up in her couch and keeping poor Baltè busy running for this and that to occupy her.
“Father!” she said, holding up her five fingers brightly as he came toward her. “This is the fifth time you have come to me. I have counted.”
“Bless your heart, child, why do you count my visits?”
“Because they are my treasures,” she answered. “I used to see you only twice in the day and the time between was so long and stupid.”