“And the consequence, too...with my husband?”
The interview was over: obviously, further discussion was useless. Why let Rhodopis press her advantage? I nodded and left, with the sound of her laughter behind me.
It is a question I must answer: it is a multiple question.
Has Rhodopis done this to spite me, wound me, shame me?
Is Kleis doing this to assert herself, to prove that she is not a child? In protest, against me, my house? To estrange us farther?
Did Kleis tell the whole truth about that day at the spring-revel? If I knew what happened...
She seemed so happy on our ocean trip. Or was it I who was happy? Perhaps I teased her too much before Phaon. Did she think I had no right to be attracted to him? Do I make her out to be more sensitive than she really is?
Right now, all I can see clearly is that perfumed handkerchief and twirling parasol.
I have never been afraid of consequences attached to my own actions. Must one learn to be braver than that? Or is this a matter of impersonal wisdom?
It is true she is fond of Mallia, the boy acting as guardian to her in the house of Charaxos, protecting her from Charaxos.
It was Mallia who served as wine boy at the spring festival.
Curiously, it is Rhodopis who has sided with them in opposing and blocking Charaxos. Yet, that is not so curious, either.
“You’re wrong to distrust Rhodopis,” says Kleis.
But my doubts persist and I consider her a foolish child. For why would she make a confidante of Rhodopis?
“I wish you could be happier with me,” I said.
Our talk seemed to unlock her heart and she burst into tears and I learned how much of a child she is. For it is still filial jealousy that makes her difficult. She cannot bear to share me with my girls, my friends, even my work.
Poor, darling Kleis, how hard it is for some of us to grow up, to learn to walk gracefully alone. I kissed and comforted her as best I could, assuring her of my love.
“There’s a place for you here, Kleis. Please try to find it. I know the girls are eager to help you, if you’ll let them.”
She promised, but the far-away look remained in her eyes.
A thiase in Andros—the thought saddens me, for then she would be far away.
I have hurled myself into work. During long silences, while I am thinking, composing, I hear the water clock outside my door. Drop after drop, it fastens itself to my memory.