"What does this Cult of Demeter have to do with your sister?" I asked at last.
"Why," answered Cleon, looking round cautiously and lowering his voice, "Lydia is a Demetrian."
"What does that mean—'Demetrian'?"
"It means that she has been selected by Demeter."
"Do try to remember," I said a little impatiently, "that I know nothing about your Demeter and can make neither head nor tail of what you are saying."
The irritation I felt made me aware that I was jealous of Chairo, jealous of Demeter, and infatuated with Lydia. Cleon's half explanations seemed to be putting Lydia out of my reach, and I was exasperated at not being able to understand just how far.
"Well," answered Cleon, "I don't know whether I ought to tell you, but it's this way: Lydia is awfully clever at figures. She can square any ten of them; add any number of columns; multiply any number by any number all in a flash. And so she's been selected by Demeter; that is to say, I suppose, they are going to marry her to some great mathematician."
"What!" exclaimed I, indignantly. "They are going to sacrifice her to a mathematician?"
"Sacrifice!" retorted Cleon with open eyes. "Why, it isn't a sacrifice! It is the greatest honor a woman can have!"
"And what does Lydia say to it?"