Hipyllos gazed after her.
“By Aphrodite,” he exclaimed, “she is like a butterfly.”
XIX.
Maira did not sleep much that night. The next morning she was surprised not to see Doris flitting about the house, and having found Clytie’s room empty, she did not doubt that her daughter was in the garden with her favorite attendant. She went there and called repeatedly; but, when silence was the only reply, a presentiment of misfortune darted through her mind. She hurried back to Clytie’s chamber, searched it, found the papyrus note on the pillow, and read its contents with breathless haste.
“Merciful Gods!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. “Gone—fled in the night!... Clytie, Clytie, how could you cause me such sorrow? Make our house the scorn of envious neighbors—What will your father say? He will rage and curse you....”
Suddenly a revulsion of feeling came over her.
“Well, let him rage,” she murmured, “let him rage and call down curses.... To drive my Clytie to this! How she must have suffered! But, by Hera, he shall hear the truth.”
She was already on her way to her chamber, when she paused.
“What am I doing!” she exclaimed. “The first thing is to conceal Clytie’s flight. No one must suspect that her room is empty.”
Calling Eunoa, the oldest female slave in the house, she said to her: “Clytie is ill. Sit down here outside of her door and let no one enter, not even her nurse. Do exactly as I tell you.”