She laughed so gaily and carelessly at her little sister’s impatience that her dark eyes sparkled and her white teeth glittered between her scarlet lips, then as the child turned, stretching its arms towards her, she darted to her, embracing and kissing the little one.
“Swing me, Melitta, swing me!” cried the child. “Chloris can’t do it.”
Melitta fastened the purple fillet tighter around her black locks, removed the upper garment worn over her red-bordered dress, and told the slave to carry it into the house; then, leaning forward, she put the swing in motion.
So this was Melitta, the irresistibly pretty Melitta.
Callippides’ glance rested as though spell-bound on the young maiden with the dark eyes, smiling lips, and slender, girlish figure. As she stood there in her light robe in the shadow between the pillars of the house, she was surrounded by such an atmosphere of purity that it defended her like a shield against evil thoughts. From the black curls that slipped out beneath the purple fillet to the gold-broidered sandals everything about her was full of childlike grace.
“Higher!” cried the little girl joyously, striking her feet together till the sandal straps clapped.
Melitta bent still lower to give the swing a stronger push. This loosened the gold clasp that fastened her dress at the neck, and the dainty dazzling shoulders appeared a moment.
Callippides knew himself, so he was surprised that no flush of passion had crimsoned his face. In the midst of his secret agitation, he recognized this fact as a sign that he was no longer the same man.
As Melitta soon after stopped the swing and helped the child out, her glance fell on the next garden where Callippides, half concealed by some bushes, stood motionless as a statue in the shade of the plane-tree.
Callippides was a tall, distinguished-looking man. His dark hair and beard were cut by Sporgilus, the best barber in Athens, and the blood-red scar made by the horse’s hoof on the crown of his head was partially concealed by the hair which, in this place, had grown somewhat thin. His features were dark and stern, but in consequence of his arduous exercises in the race-course, he had retained a bearing which made him ten years younger. Like all Athenians of noble birth, he paid great attention to his person and most frequently wore a snow-white chiton or tunic of the finest Milesian wool, with a blue over-garment of Persian kaunakē, a kind of costly rough woollen fabric imported from Sardis. Down to the light soles which belonged to his calling of sycophant he was, in short, in everything an exquisite, a dandy, but in such a way that he did not make himself ridiculous. His gait showed none of the affected stiffness with which Athenian coxcombs tried to attract attention, and he never carried a short staff under his cloak nor walked with a fragrant Median apple in his hands when he appeared out of doors.