“More than that I will do,” added the mother harshly. “Unless she gives you your word this night, I turn her from my door into the streets. There you can seize her and carry her to your own house, Thamyris; or the city magistrate will seize her for wandering the streets without the badge of a courtesan on her forehead and have her burned at the faggots. Little headstrong fool! Does she think to change our Greek customs for a puny whim? I have given her dower to make a princess rich; and you have given her gifts of an empress; and she sits listening to that beggarly babbler, whom no one knows, stone to her blood mother’s commands and cold as a Venus in snow to her lover. Go to her! Plead not! Command! Do as you will! My ears are deaf! A girl denying her lover in Iconium would last long as a gazelle baited by hounds—Pah!” The middle-aged, stout, heavy lover went bounding up the balcony steps fast as his fat calves and stiff knees would carry him. He drew aside the silk portières hanging across the daughter’s apartment and advanced across the room a little breathless. The girl turned her head but did not speak. Thereupon, something he had not reckoned smote his courage cold. It was the love he had for the fair child in the window seat. He could not touch her. He could not risk turning love to indifference, or indifference to hate. “How now, my little bride,” he said gallantly drawing something from his gold sash, “here are some gifts I purchased to-day from the Damascus caravans—emerald earrings set in Damascus gold wrought fine as a spider web, and a little silver mirror from an Arab merchant, which shall show your face fairer than Venus’ eyelids penciled for the dawn.” He had meant to lay the gifts in her lap and take her thanks in an embrace; but somehow he could only open the little cases and shove them awkwardly along the stone window sill. The girl’s long-lashed eyes filled with tears. She smiled sadly. “My poor dear Thamyris,” she said gently. “Not poor,” he interrupted harshly, “nor dear, either, unless I am dear to you.” “Dear Thamyris—if these gifts are to buy my love, I cannot take them. I would be cheating you.” He sat down on the window sill beside her. “They are not gifts to buy your love. They are tokens of my love,” he said, toying with the gold tassel of her sash. “Then, if they are tokens of your love, I am cheating you, dear Thamyris; for I cannot give you love in return.” “I am no huckster,” he urged, flushing angrily. “They are the free gift of a free Greek. I ask no love in return. I only ask that you become my bride and let me teach you love.” She mutely shook her head. “Put them on,” he ordered abruptly. “Your mother has pledged you to me. You are mine; but I will not claim you till you come willingly to my arms.” “Because you command me, I put them on. I must obey you as long as I remain in my mother’s house.” She fastened the filigree clasps to her ears and thrust the silver mirror in her sash.