"Wife—wife! Horns of Bel! Why, Greek, thou art the wonder of my heart! 'Home'—to thy 'wife'! Who may she be? Thou hast not won the goddess over?"
Charmides flushed, but did not lose his temper. "Come you home and eat of my bread, and behold the light of Ramûa's eyes."
"Oh, ay. Give you thanks. I will in happiness break bread with you. Then, later, come you out with me where I am going—to the temple of the false Istar. Let us behold the witches who wander abroad; the vultures that snatch at the bodies of the fallen in the pale beams of Sin; and the vampires and ghouls that haunt the Great City by night. The Lady Ramûa will sleep soundly enough for this only time."
Charmides laughed blithely. "Verily, 'tis what I would do, Hodo. Babylon by day I know all too well. But Babylon by night—often have I heard of the Îgigî and the bat companions of Mulge. Together we shall behold them. Now yonder is the tenement of Ut, wherein I dwell."
"Aha! Near to Ribâta's palace. Is thy wife awaiting thee?"
"It is Ramûa in the door-way there, with the jar upon her head."
"By Nebo and Bel, a slender lass!"
As the two men arrived at the door Charmides introduced his wife to his friend; and Ramûa, for Charmides' sake, greeted the grotesque little creature with cordial if modest hospitality. Beltani hurried forth to purchase a river-fish from the nearest vender, and this was hastily cooked for supper, along with the usual sesame. These things, and the milk, figs, and dates, they ate in-doors; for, though the moon still shone brightly, none could say that in fifteen minutes a hurricane might not be raging. Ramân was fickle, and, in the rainy season, he was the supreme god of the skies.
Hodo seated himself delightedly at Charmides' table. Here, indeed, thought he, was a miracle: that a fellow scarcely attained to manhood, ignorant of every detail of the life and the language of a people also new to him, should have entered the gates of the greatest city in the world, and in four months find himself master of a household, earning a creditable income, and should at the same time have won for a wife one of the most delightful young women that the little Borsipite had ever seen. Ramûa, in fact, with one long-lashed glance, had completely conquered him. The crooked little man forgot his food in the interest of observing what went on around him; and only by the noble efforts of Beltani was the conversational ball kept moving, however fitfully and unevenly. Ramûa, shy and a little nervous at this first tax on her young matronhood, said almost nothing, but managed that Bazuzu should keep every plate and cup filled without putting too severe a strain on the diminutive larder. It never occurred to Charmides to watch the food, nor to be in the least ashamed of their open poverty. His Greek nature was too primitive for that. He was decidedly sorry when the meal came to an end, and Ramûa, making the proper salutations, followed her mother into the inner room, leaving Charmides and the guest to divert themselves as best they might.
"Thy wife—does she dance?" inquired Hodo, hopefully, when they were alone.