“And the fighting?” asked Pylea, wonderingly.
“Oh, the men are expected to do that.”
“I cannot understand it. Once on a time, as our men are fond of singing and boasting about in their cups, they say our men could fight. But we who know them do not believe that, or they would never have fled from the land they ruled over then, according to the legends which they have invented. No,” she continued thoughtfully; “they must always have been as they are, poor, treacherous, mean-spirited cowards, who dare not face a woman, but find a pleasure in tormenting slaves. They must always have been fond of lying upon litters and couches, of wine and tasty dishes. They never could have been trusted out of sight—not our men, who are good for nothing honourable, true, or brave.”
“Yet you marry them,” observed Ned.
“Oh yes; that is the custom. When we feel ourselves getting too stiff to fight or run, we take a man to keep our house and look after us and our children. We are always strong enough to make them obedient, and we never expect too much from them. They are poor things, who do not know what honour and truth are; only a little more to be tolerated than the slaves. They like to babble about their paltry pastimes, which they call work.”
Here were the new woman’s ideas and aspirations put into a nutshell, with man the despised placed on his proper footing.
“Once on a time, as our men sing, when they get together and we are out of hearing, their forefathers owned quite a number of wives, as we now own slaves. But they are never so far gone as to whisper that lie when they return home. They dip their bald heads in the fountains on the way back before they face us. This is about the only wisdom which I think they have,” said Pylea, softly, as she laughingly left Ned with a military salute.
From what Ned had seen of the amazons, there was not much to fear respecting the python incident, unless Cocoeni and his comrades raised their jealousy. He resolved to warn them to be careful, and confine themselves strictly to brotherly attentions only. It would not be wise for them to play at love with those tigresses.
What Pylea had said about the male Karnadamains was all true, as he found out for himself. They were a cringing, lying, vicious-minded set of self-indulgent sots. When they could, they slunk off in company, and boasted about their mean vices as if they were actions to be proud of. A very little of their converse went a long way to sicken and disgust him. They spoke gently, and were choice in their expressions, for they were critical and refined over details, and artistic in their tastes. But the details were nauseating, depraved, and loathsome as slimy snakes. They were vile objects, without one redeeming virtue and with as much human emotion as lizards.
As artists, artificers, and musicians, however, he was forced to give them their meed of praise. They followed fixed and long-established rules with undeviating and unoriginal fidelity, and never attempted to break from their bonds.