Part 4 (1/2)

”The G.o.ds know, my master, the G.o.ds know,” cried the poor woman in an agony. ”But it is impossible; the G.o.ds would not do anything so cruel, so unjust. But, if you wish, you may put what you please into your will.

As long as you live you are my master, and I am your slave.” So matters stood when my story opens. Perhaps it may be added that Manto's condition did not prevent her tongue from being truthful; but affectionate, faithful, and honest, she allowed herself and was allowed--no unusual circ.u.mstance, yet she was under a system of slavery--a liberty of speech which in one free born would certainly have been impossible. Finally, to complete my account of the household, Hermione had for her maid a girl about a year older than herself. She too had come into the family along with Milanion and Manto. Demochares had bought her at the sale of the prisoners taken by the Athenians when a little Sicilian town was captured. She was then a singularly pretty child about seven years old, and Demochares had meant her to be a playfellow or plaything, as the case might be, of a daughter of his own of about the same age. She was of mixed race; her mother was a Sicanian, that is, one of the so-called aboriginal inhabitants of Sicily, her father a Carthaginian trader. She was now grown up into a handsome maiden, who with her raven-black hair, dark piercing eyes, and deep brunette complexion, made a remarkable contrast to the fair beauty of her mistress.

When Callias reached the house the hour was late, later than etiquette allowed for a visit, except from an intimate friend, or on a matter of urgent business. His business, however, was urgent, and he did not hesitate to knock, that is to strike the door sharply with a bra.s.s ring which was attached to it by a staple. The day-porter had gone home for the night, and the door was opened by the young slave mentioned above.

He explained that his master was just about to sit down to his evening meal. ”Take him my name,” said Callias, ”and say that I come from the magistrates on an important matter of business.” The lad invited him to enter, and to take a seat in a small chamber which looked upon the central court of the andronitis, a gra.s.s plot, bordered on all sides by myrtle and orange. In a few minutes he returned, and invited the visitor to follow him. Callias crossed the court and pa.s.sed through the door which led into the women's apartment. Hippocles, it should be said, was accustomed to see visitors on business in the front or men's portion of the dwelling, but spent his leisure time in the rooms a.s.signed to his daughter. The two had just taken their places at the table, Hippocles reclining on a couch, Hermione sitting on a chair by his right hand, so that his face was turned towards her.[13] The steward had placed the first dish on the table, and was standing in front, with Hippocles'

personal attendant behind him. The latter at a sign from his master, prepared a place for the new-comer.

Hippocles saluted his guest in a most friendly fas.h.i.+on, and Hermione gave him her hand with a charming smile, though the moment afterwards tears gathered in her eyes, when she remembered the last occasion on which they had met.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Plan of a large Grecian House, probably more pretentious than the House of Hippocles.

1. Main Door.

2. Entrance Pa.s.sage.

3. Central Court of the Men's part of the house (_Andronitis_).

4. 4. 4. Various Rooms of the _Andronitis_.

5. Pa.s.sage connecting the _Andronitis_ with the _Gynaeconitis_ (Women's Apartments).

6. Court of the _Gynaeconitis_.

7. 7. 7. Various rooms of the _Gynaeconitis_.

8. The Prostas--a hall opening from 6.

9. 9. Apartments probably used as a family bedroom and sitting room.

10. 10. Rooms for looms and woolen manufacture.]

”If the business will wait for half-an-hour,” said the host, ”postpone it for so long. I have had a long day's work, and shall be scarcely myself till I have eaten. And you--doubtless you have dined before this; but you will take a cup with us.”

As a matter of fact Callias had not dined, though in the excitement of the day's business he had almost forgotten food. A hasty meal s.n.a.t.c.hed on board the trireme which had brought him to Athens had been his only refreshment since the morning.

”Nay, sir, but I have not dined; unless you call some five or six dried anchovies and a hunk of barley bread, washed down with some very sharp Hymettus, a dinner; and that was rather before noon than after it.”

The meal was simple. It consisted of some fresh anchovies, a piece of roast pork, a hare brought from Euboea, for Attica swept as it had been again and again by hostile armies, had almost ceased to supply this favorite food, and a pudding of wheat flour, seasoned with spices. This last had been made by Hermione herself. The rest of the dinner had been cooked by a man who came in daily for the purpose. When the viands had been cleared away, Hippocles proposed the usual toast, ”To our Good Fortune,” the toast not being drank, but honored by pouring some drops from the goblet. A second libation followed, this time to ”Athene the Keeper of the City.” The host then pledged his guest in a cup of Chian wine. His daughter followed the rule of the best Grecian families, and drank no wine.

”We can dispense, I think, with these,” he said, when the steward was about to put some apples, nuts and olives on the table.

”Just so,” replied his guest, ”and this excellent cup of Chian will be all the wine that I shall want.”

”Now then for business,” said Hippocles. ”Let us hope that the city will pardon us for postponing it so long. But we must eat. Shall my daughter leave us? For my part, I find her a very Athene for counsel.”

”As you will, sir,” replied Callias, ”I have nothing to say but what all may know, and indeed will know before a day is past.”

The young man then proceeded to tell the story with which my readers are already acquainted. The question was briefly this: How was Conon to be told that relief was coming?

”I see,” said Hippocles, ”that he must be told. He is a brave fellow, and a good general, too, though perhaps a little rash. But he must make terms for himself and his men, unless he has a project of relief. He would not be doing his duty to the state if he did not. But if he capitulates before the relief comes--how many s.h.i.+ps has he?”

”Forty,” said Callias.

”And we can have a hundred, or possibly, a hundred and ten here, by straining every nerve. The Spartans have a hundred and forty, I think.”

”A few may have been disabled in the battle; but it would not be safe to reckon on less, for very likely others have been dropping in since then.”