"This time we shall win!" Thais exclaimed, throwing her arms about her companion. "You are beautiful this morning, Artemisia; Clearchus will be pleased with you."
The color in Artemisia's cheeks deepened and a happy smile parted her lips.
"I shall make him leave the army," she said. "Of course I am proud of his bravery; but, after all, there are better things than to be always killing other men."
She raised her chin with a charming affectation of pride. "He is an Athenian, you know," she added.
Thais frowned. She found in Artemisia's words an implied reflection upon Chares.
"Don't be silly," she replied. "Do you want to make him one of those curled idiots who spend their time in company with philosophers, chasing shadows or trying to find out why crabs walk sidewise? You would wake up some day and find that one of them had proved to him that there is no such thing as love. Or perhaps you would rather have him a dandy, with race-horses and a score of dancing girls to amuse himself with! Let him be a man, Artemisia; let him love you and fight his enemies with all his heart. For my part, if Chares talks of deserting Alexander, he may look elsewhere for some one to love him; for I shall not."
Artemisia listened to this outburst; but she shook her head, and a soft light shone in her eyes.
"You want power and splendor," she said "but I would rather be alone with Clearchus in a desert than sit beside him upon the throne of Darius. I will have no rival in his heart."
"And with half a dozen children around you," Thais said scornfully. "You might as well complete the picture."
"Yes," Artemisia answered bravely, though she blushed as she said it, "if the Gods permit it; and if the first is a boy, he shall be named Chares."