“Glaucus,” said the young wife, turning pale, “I am afraid of this man.”
“Simpleton!” replied Glaucus smiling, “you ought rather to rejoice” and, lowering his voice, he added: “I long for some touch of adversity. We are too fortunate, we fare like the happy gods. We have nothing to desire.... Have I not a superabundance of property and wealth, a spacious, handsome house, large store-houses in Athens and the Piræeus, numerous ships at sea, and a beautiful villa at Salamis? And as to the future, have I not my little Callias to inherit all I possess?”
Now that he had spoken of his wealth and his son, he thought of his wife. In ancient times women were little valued.
Half rising on his couch he let his eyes rest on Charicleia’s figure. Her thin, light dress, with a pattern of small green leaves, displayed the delicate neck and white shoulders, and the mere way in which she carried her head revealed the young oikodespoina (mistress of the house) who was born of a noble race and accustomed to command numerous slaves.
Glaucus clasped her soft, ringed hand.
“And have I not,” he added, “a good and beautiful wife?”
Charicleia raised her dark eyes to his and replied by a pressure of the hand that meant: “And haven’t I the best and handsomest of husbands?”
“Don’t look at me so, my bee,”[M] said Glaucus smiling. “My whole soul yearns to you. But you know what the sailors say: ‘Ships must be kept free from Aphrodite’s lures, first because they are sacred, and secondly because it isn’t right to trifle, when there is only a plank between us and death.’”
[M] A common term of endearment for women. Of course the allusion was not to the bee as armed with a sting, but to the producer of honey, the sweetest thing known at that period.
Charicleia was not listening to him.