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They tell me that he is fierce, irascible, haughty; and what slighted lover is not revengeful? For my sake, Cleonice, for your poor father's sake, show no scorn, no repugnance; be gentle, play with him, draw not down the thunderbolt, even if you turn from the golden shower."
The handmaids paused from their work. Cleonice turned her eyes wistfully towards the Mothon. Pausanias drew his hands from his face, and cried joyously, "I accept the omen. Foster-brother, I have heard that measure to a Hymeneal Song. Sing us the words that go with the melody."
And I be left here, with no comfort but a singer's dreamy verse, not even mine ambition! Thrones would vanish out of earth, and turn to cinders in thine urn." "Speak not of thrones," said Cleonice, with imploring softness, "for the prophetess, too, spake of steps that went towards a throne, and vanished at the threshold of darkness, beside which sate the Furies.
"You said you would come to-night," said Cleonice, calmly, "and Spartans, according to proverbs, speak the truth." "When it is to their advantage, yes," said but with respect to others, they consider honourable whatever pleases them, and just whatever is to their advantage."
Seeking to distract his mind from the haunting thought of Cleonice, he flung himself with the ardour of his Greek temperament into the social pleasures, which took a zest from the design that he carried into them all. In the banquets, in the sports, he was ever seeking to increase the enemies of his rival, and where he charmed a gay companion, there he often enlisted a bold conspirator.
"Speak!" insisted Pausanias, softening his haughty voice to its meekest tone. "I cannot see the path to the altar," murmured Cleonice, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. "And if thou seest it not," returned Pausanias, "art thou brave enough to say Be we lost to each other for life? I, though man and Spartan, am not brave enough to say that!"
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