“Thou sayest well. They are but a torment.”
“I meant not that they are a torment. It is torment that I have them not!”
Wildly she spoke, unsealing her lips upon this subject, and to the astounding of the king, as she continued:
“Why speakest thou of children, and at this time? It is hard to bear. To have no child to look upon, to nurse, to clasp! Here is the heart of a mother, but where is the child to cling to it, to bless it? I am alone—alone!”
She bowed her head to hide the bursting tears. The king, touched, attempted consolation.
“Grieve not, Atlana. I care for children but to vex Oltis. As life is, they are ever a trouble.”
“I care not about Oltis. For trouble, fathers have no trouble. It is the mothers alone—who have to bear—that have the right to murmur. But I should never murmur.”
“Nay, for a queen need have no care.”
“I should have care, and hail it, were I many times a queen.”
Such strong yearning was in her face that the king exclaimed: