The Golden Hope: A Story of the Time of King Alexander the Great

"May the Gods forbid!" Clearchus exclaimed. "You are right, Thais. It must not be told."

"Then I will destroy the proofs," she said, "and remain, as I have been, the first of my race."

All three were silent, thinking of the future, and Thais smiled faintly, as though at that moment she were conscious of the wonderful power that was to descend through her daughters, until it attained its perfection in the irresistible charm of that Cleopatra who was to see the conquerors of the world at her feet. Yet she sighed as her eyes met those of Clearchus.

"If only Chares were here!" she murmured.

"We know," the Athenian answered gravely, "and we do not blame you, since all of us must bow to the will of the Gods."

"I thank you," she said simply. "You have both been kind to me."

Artemisia joined them, holding one of her girls by either hand, while young Chares followed with his bow, concerning which he wished to consult Leonidas. There, in the vine-grown arbor, they sat talking until the shadows began to lengthen, and the afternoon drew to its close. Thais rose, lithe and graceful as an animal of the desert, and the slaves, who had been watching her, in a bright-colored group, from beneath the trees, scrambled to their feet.

"Come, Leonidas, the cares of state await us," she said. "Remember that you are a general now, and I am almost a queen, while these two have nothing to do but waste their time in being happy."

"You will come again to-morrow?" Artemisia said, embracing her.

"Perhaps," replied Thais, and she moved away down the avenue with the Spartan, toward the retinue of slaves who stood waiting to surround her.

Clearchus and Artemisia watched them until the foliage hid them from sight, and then turned toward the house. Artemisia noticed that a rose bush, weighted with flowers, had swayed across the path, and she stooped to put it back into place. Clearchus slipped his arm about her waist and kissed her.

"Silly!" she said, blushing, "everybody will see you."

"That cannot be helped," he retorted. "You looked then just as you looked in the garden in Academe that morning when I found you among your roses – and I think I love you more now than I did then."

"We love each other more," Artemisia said softly, "because we did not know then what it would be to lose each other."