It was Friday, the day of the bath, and not long before the time appointed for the departure of the high-priestess. Ildiko, Alcyesta, Mineola and Kerœcia were taking a siesta while deft-fingered maids brushed the hair spread out over their shoulders to dry after hammam and massage. They were seated on cushions piled on the still heated flagging, near the play of a perfumed spray. Their finger tips, nails and palms had been beautified, and the flat-iron shaped pumice-stone rubber had been industriously applied to the bottom of the feet, until each one was as soft and pliant as a baby’s untried sole. Long loose-fitting robes tied at the waist with striped silk, were the only garments worn.
The bathers regaled themselves with an ice-cream water-melon, which had been buried in an artificial snow-bank since early morning. Setos knew how to manufacture ice, but he preferred to follow the custom, long prevalent in Tlamco, of packing the snow in winter and bringing it down from the mountains as needed for daily use. A water jar made of porous clay, and completely covered by a fine growth of timothy grass had been filled with mead and hung in a window where a draught of air played upon it. The Azes believed that a turquoise prevented contagion, and that an emerald had the quality to purify water; so, the patera drinking-cups of silver provided were ornamented with them.
“It nears the fourth hour since we commenced our bath,” commented Kerœcia, helping herself to a drink from the ewer. “We have talked about everything I know. Now, what shall we do?”
The daintily carved orange-wood spoon in the hand of each listener was hastily returned to the yellow flesh of the melon, freckled with black seeds, and three pairs of eager eyes focused on the speaker.
“I will tell thee what I should like to do,” cried Ildiko. “I should like to talk about love. I intend to marry within a year.”
“O—h, dost thou?” they all exclaimed, in a breath. “Hast thou decreed who shall be party to this resolve?”
“Yes—and no. In Atlantis, the parents often select a husband or wife for their children. But one is not compelled to accept their choice,” she answered.
“Has a selection been made for thee?” queried Alcyesta.
“Yes. My father and Rahula have partly agreed that I am to marry Alcamayn.”
“Oh! Ho!” was all that could be distinguished, as the wooden plates were quickly set aside, and a general readjustment of cushions closed in around Ildiko.