The woman turned and crouched by the dead boy, and seemed painstakingly to appraise her own reflection on the water's surface.
"It is gone now, the comeliness Demetrios was pleased to like. I would have waded Acheron--singing--rather than let his little finger ache. He knew as much. Only it seemed a trifle, because your eyes were bright and your fair skin was unwrinkled. In consequence the man is dead. Oh, Melicent, I wonder why I am so sad!"
Callistion's meditative eyes were dry, but those of Melicent were not. And Melicent came to the Dacian woman, and put one arm about her in that dim, sweet-scented place, saying, "I never meant to wrong you."
Callistion did not seem to heed. Then Callistion said: "See now! Do you not see the difference between us!" These two were kneeling side by side, and each looked into the water.
Callistion said: "I do not wonder that Demetrios loved you. He loved at odd times many women. He loved the mother of this carrion here. But afterward he would come back to me, and lie asprawl at my feet with his big crafty head between my knees; and I would stroke his hair, and we would talk of the old days when we were young. He never spoke of you. I cannot pardon that."
"I know," said Melicent. Their cheeks touched now.
"There is only one master who could teach you that drear knowledge--"
"There is but one, Callistion."
"The man would be tall, I think. He would, I know, have thick, brown, curling hair--"
"He has black hair, Callistion. It glistens like a raven's wing."
"His face would be all pink and white, like yours--"
"No, tanned like yours, Callistion. Oh, he is like an eagle, very resolute. His glance bedwarfs you. I used to be afraid to look at him, even when I saw how foolishly he loved me--"
"I know," Callistion said. "All women know. Ah, we know many things--"
She reached with her free arm across the body of Diophantus and presently dropped a stone into the pool. She said: "See how the water ripples. There is now not any reflection of my poor face or of your beauty. All is as wavering as a man's heart.... And now your beauty is regathering like coloured mists. Yet I have other stones."
"Oh, and the will to use them!" said Dame Melicent.
"For this bright thieving beauty is not any longer yours. It is mine now, to do with as I may elect--as yesterday it was the plaything of Demetrios.... Why, no! I think I shall not kill you. I have at hand three very cunning Cheylas--the men who carve and reshape children into such droll monsters. They cannot change your eyes, they tell me. That is a pity, but I can have one plucked out. Then I shall watch my Cheylas as they widen your mouth from ear to ear, take out the cartilage from your nose, wither your hair till it will always be like rotted hay, and turn your skin--which is like velvet now--the colour of baked mud. They will as deftly strip you of that beauty which has robbed me as I pluck up this blade of grass.... Oh, they will make you the most hideous of living things, they assure me. Otherwise, as they agree, I shall kill them. This done, you may go freely to your lover. I fear, though, lest you may not love him as I loved Demetrios."