"How many men has Diana and her friends killed through the years? Enough to populate a couple of planets, I should say?"
"Diana? With her bow and arrows alone she used to account for a good many; and later, as she learned more evil arts, there was no record kept. She has been a most evil goddess, yet men worship her."
"Why? A goddess that kills a man for seeing her is a fiend! And her maidens may not see a man, either. It is a strange life she leads, for a true woman. She must be other than female."
"That could be, Druga," murmured Eos.
The morning sun glittered from the streams and from the little glass foot-bridge that shimmered magically across and up in a great arc to the door in the side of the cliff. Eos sighed at the beauty.
"This wife of yours was a housekeeper, I note, with an eye for art."
"Her art and her work were always first, Eos. She was an uncommon hard woman to get used to, but she made a man of me."
"That I can see," agreed Eos, and Druga looked at her twice to know what she meant. "You owe everything to Feronia, according to you, and nothing to yourself."
"Very little, Goddess. But I do not exaggerate, she was...."