“Oh, prophetess of evil! Take back what you’ve said!
“Why say it? I’ve just met him, and I’ve only trifled with pleasure in his arms.”
“You owe your pleasure to him because you do not know what voluptuousness means, my tiniest of tiny girls. Forget him as you would a playmate and congratulate yourself on being only twelve years old.”
“So one is very unhappy when grown up?” asked the child. “All the women here chatter unceasingly of their troubles, and I, who never hardly cry, see so many weeping!”
Chimairis dug her two hands into her hair and uttered a groan. Her goat shook its gold collar and turned its head in her direction, but she did not bestow a glance on the animal.
“Nevertheless, I know one happy woman,” continued Melitta, significantly. “She’s my great friend, Chrysis. I’m certain she never sheds a tear.”
“She will,” said Chimairis.
“Oh, prophetess of evil! Take back what you’ve said, distraught old woman, or I shall hate you!”
Seeing the young girl’s threatening gestures, the black goat reared up erect, its front legs bent under; its horns thrust forward.
Melitta fled without looking where she went.