THAIS
Chares sat in the house of Thais in Athens, idly watching the lithe
motions of the tame leopard as it worried an ivory ball. Its mistress
lay at full length on a low couch of sandalwood looking at the Theban
with eyes half closed.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" he replied.
"Am I not your slave?" she said softly. "Have you not ruined yourself
to buy me?"
"That is true," he said, stroking his chin and examining her
reflectively. "You are my most costly possession!"
"Well?" she insisted.
"And I shall not be here to guard you," he continued. "Who knows what
may happen?"
She drew through her slender fingers the silken fringe of the crimson
shawl that was twisted about her waist.
"You have not asked me why I went to Thebes," she said at last.
"No," he replied, looking at her inquiringly.
"I wanted to see Maia," she said, looking at him innocently. "I had
heard so much of her beauty."
"Oh," he said, smiling. "What did you think of her?"
"I did not see her," Thais replied. "Is she beautiful?"
"Let me see," Chares said, studying the walls as though in an effort to
remember. "She has black hair and her eyes too are dark, I think. Her
forehead is low and broad and her nose is straight. Perhaps her mouth
might be thought a little too wide, but her chin is beautifully rounded
and her shoulders and neck are perfect. Yes, I think she might be
called beautiful."
"Chares," Thais said timidly, "do you love her?"
Chares laughed. "How can a man make love without an obol that he can
call his own?" he replied.
"Are you wholly ruined, then?" she asked.
"I haven't enough left to buy you a singing thrush," he replied gayly.
"But you have me and all that is mine," she said softly.
"Not even you!" he answered. He drew a scroll from the folds of his
chiton and tossed it into her lap. She opened it slowly and read a
release legally executed, giving her back her freedom and placing her
in the enjoyment of all her possessions. Chares watched her with an
expectant smile as her eyes followed the written lines. When she had
ended, she raised herself on her elbow and gazed earnestly at him for a
moment with dilated eyes. Then, without a word, she buried her face in
the cushions and her form was shaken with sobs. As the scroll fell
from her hand the leopard pounced upon it and began tearing it with his
teeth.
"What is the matter with you, Thais?" Chares asked in a tone of
displeasure.
"Why did you buy me?" she replied, without lifting her head.
"To save you from falling into the hands of the Ph[oe]nician, of
course," he replied impatiently.
"Then I wish you had not done it," she sobbed.
"Listen to reason, Thais!" Chares said in a graver tone. "It is I who
am no longer free. I have sold my sword and I am in bonds to the
Macedonian."
He paused, but she made no answer, although her weeping ceased.
"Were it not so," he continued, "why should I stay here? This is not
my city and these are not my people. I have neither, now that Thebes
is no more. Clearchus and Leonidas are going with Alexander, as I have
told you. Would you have me lag behind? There will be fighting and
danger, glory and spoil. Shall I not share them?"
"You may be killed," Thais said faintly, showing her tear-stained face.
"Zeus grant that it be not until I have met Phradates on the field of
battle!" he exclaimed.
"Is there nothing, then, that you care for in Athens?" she asked
dolefully.
"Thou knowest well that I love thee, Thais," he replied. "Thou knowest
that it will tear my heart to leave thee behind. But it is the Gods
who have decided for us and we have no choice. Were there no other
reason for my going, Clearchus will have need of me in his search for
Artemisia, and that would be enough to forbid my remaining here."
"Then I will go, too!" Thais cried, leaping from the couch and standing
defiantly before him.
Chares returned her look with an indulgent smile. Her exquisitely
moulded form was outlined under the clinging folds of her garment. Her
tiny feet, with their pink little heels, looked as though they had
never rested upon the earth. Her hair fell about her rounded neck and
dimpled shoulders like spun copper. Her red lips and pearly teeth
seemed made to feast on dainties. Physically she was as sensitive and
delicate as a child; but her eyes shone with a fire that betrayed
indomitable spirit.
"What will you do when it snows?" the Theban asked mockingly.
She threw herself down on her knees on the floor beside him, taking his
hand in hers and pressing it against her glowing cheek.
"Chares! Chares! My master! I love thee!" she murmured. "The blind
God at whose power I laughed so often when I was in his mother's
service has stricken me through the heart. My soul is naked before
thee. I cannot have thee leave me. If thou dost, I shall die. I will
go to the ends of the earth with thee. I will suffer hardships to be
near thee. Thou art all I have. I am thy slave, and I do not wish to
be free."
Chares felt her tears upon his hand. He lifted her face and kissed her.
Suddenly she sprang to her feet and began to pace backward and forward
on the many-colored carpet that was spread upon the floor. The leopard
stopped tearing at the parchment and followed her with his eyes.
"Is it my fault that I am--what I am?" she cried. "Am I to blame
because my life has not been like that of other women? They are
shielded from the world and ignorant of what is good and what is bad.
Have I committed a fault in fulfilling the will of the Gods, from whom
there is no escape? For the evil done by others must I pay the
penalty?"
"Of course not," Chares said consolingly, scarcely knowing what she
meant or how to answer her. Her passion took him by surprise. She
stood before him glowing in every limb with youth and beauty, her chin
raised and her lips parted in scorn, as though defying the world to
accuse her.
"Who cast me adrift?" she went on vehemently. "You talk of going into
Asia to aid Clearchus in his search for Artemisia. Very well, I will
go with you and search too, for I also wish to find Artemisia. She is
my sister!"
"What do you mean, Thais? Are you mad?" Chares exclaimed.
"It is the truth," she replied. "I forced old Eunomus to tell me only
last night. He has the proofs and he has promised to deliver them to
me, for a certain sum, of course. I am the daughter of Theorus, who
caused me to be exposed because I was a girl. The old pander found me,
as he has found many another in his time, and--and--he made of me what
you see me."
She threw herself once more upon the couch to ease her grief among the
crimson cushions. Chares knew not what to say. He distrusted the
story told by Eunomus, for he knew the wretch was capable of doing
anything for money. But, after all, what if the tale were true? He
was fond of Thais, of course. How could a man help being fond of a
young and beautiful woman who loved him? There was Aspasia, who had
ruled Athens and all Hellas through Pericles. There was the son of
Phocion, who had actually married a girl no better than Thais. Still,
what had been could not be changed; and even if Thais was the daughter
of Theorus, that fact could make no difference.
Thais raised her head from the pillows as though she had read his
thoughts. Her eyes were softened with tears.
"Is it my fault," she pleaded, "that my sister has the love of an
honorable man and will be married to him, while I--I can never hope for
such a marriage? I know it, Chares, and I do not ask it. All I ask is
that you will permit me to go with you. I am tired, since I knew you,
of my life here. Without meaning to do so, you have opened my eyes to
new things. I am what I am; but, in spite of all, I am still a
woman--more a woman perhaps, than Artemisia, my sister, whom I have
never seen. Let me go with you, Chares, to share your dangers and your
glory, to nurse you if you are wounded, and to stand beside your
funeral pyre and watch my heart turn to ashes if you are killed. I
cannot bear to be left behind. The weariness and the waiting would
surely kill me. Let me go with thee, my Life, for I think neither of
us will see Athens again."
Chares felt deep pity for the unfortunate girl stir in his heart. The
strength of his emotion troubled his careless nature.
"There, there," he said, anxious to pacify her. "Don't make gloomy
predictions. You shall come."
She nestled into his arms and laid her head upon his shoulder.
"I shall never know greater happiness," she said, with a sigh of
content; and then, changing her tone, "They say the women of the Medes
are very beautiful. You will not make me jealous, will you, Chares?"
He laughed and kissed her, looking into her eyes. "Small need have you
to fear the Medean women!" he said.