Herm. Not exactly a bachelor.
Aph. What do you mean?
Herm. I believe there is a wife, as it were; a good enough sort of girl—a native of those parts—but sadly countrified! I fancy he does not care very much about her.—Why do you ask?
Aph. I just wanted to know.
Ath. Now, Hermes, that is not fair. No whispering with Aphrodite.
Herm. It was nothing, Athene; nothing about you. She only asked me whether Paris was a bachelor.
Ath. What business is that of hers?
Herm. None that I know of. She meant nothing by the question; she just wanted to know.
Ath. Well, and is he?
Herm. Why, no.