“If a slave breaks his chains and runs, I am always glad,” she said.
“I was talking about Helen.”
“So was I. If a Spartan wife throws off her bondage and defies the laws that insult her, I am still more glad.”
“But not if she sins?” Henriette coughed, warningly.
“Yes; if she sins.”
“Oh, Hadria,” remonstrated Henriette, in despair.
“I don’t see that it follows that Helen did sin, however; one does not know much about her sentiments. She revolted against the tyranny that held her shut in, enslaved, body and soul, in that wonderful Greek world of hers. I am charmed to think that she gave her countrymen so much trouble to assert her husband’s right of ownership. It was at his door that the siege of Troy ought to be laid. I only wish elopements always caused as much commotion!” Lady Engleton laughed, and Miss Temperley tried to catch Hadria’s eye.
“Well, that is a strange idea! And do you really think Helen did not sin? Seriously now.”
“I don’t know. There is no evidence on that point.” Lady Engleton laughed again.
“You do amuse me. Assuming that Helen did not sin, I suppose you would (if only for the sake of paradox) accuse the virtuous Greek matrons—who sat at home, and wove, and span, and bore children—of sinning against the State!”