Suddenly he saw a woman. She was resting, sitting against the rocks and gazing at the rosy sky. He recognized his slave, the one with the beautiful voice, the singer, Cora.
She started when she saw him and rose and bowed low, with outstretched hands:
“Forgive me, my lord,” she stammered, “for straying so far from the barge.”
He reassured her: he was a master who did not grudge his slaves a liberty. And he asked her, in a kind voice:
“Why did you stray so far?”
“I strayed without intending it, my lord. My thoughts carried me along!”
“What were you thinking of?”
“I was thinking of Cos, my dear birthplace, and whether I should ever see it again.”
“It is the birthplace of Apelles the painter and of Epicharmus the poet-philosopher and inventor of comedy. It is a place of beauty and art, is it not, Cora?”
“It is like a most charming garden, my lord. It contains the temples of aesculapius and Aphrodite. I was born there in the slave-school. I had a delightful childhood. There was a big garden in which I used to play. … Forgive me, my lord. …”
“Go on.”
“I was trained there and tended. I was bathed and carefully anointed and rubbed. This was done by the negresses. I learned to dance when I was very young. That is why I am lithe, my lord; and I hope that I dance well. But I also loved music; I sang. We had masters, who taught us to sing and play the harp, and mistresses, who taught us to dance. Dryope, who was in charge of the slave-school, was stern, but she was not unkind. My parents also were her slaves. My father was a runner and my mother was a dancer too. There were wagers when my father ran in a race; and he but seldom failed to win the prize for our mistress. She would have him flogged when he did not win the prize, but not hard, for she did not want to injure his precious body. Dryope was a good mistress to us, for my mother stopped dancing after she had once sprained her foot and Dryope nevertheless remained kind and gentle to her slave. But, when I was able to sing and dance, my lord, Dryope sold me for a big sum to a slave-dealer who was going to Rome with a number of slaves, male and female. I embraced Dryope and my parents and went with the dealer. He also was not harsh to me, because I was a valuable slave, my lord; he was not harsh to his slaves; he was careful of them as of precious merchandise. Thrasyllus bought me for you, my lord, on the slave-market in Rome; and I was proud when he paid a big sum for me after hearing my trial song and seeing my trial dance. And now … now I am happy, my lord, to belong to a master like yourself. But still my thoughts often wander to Cos, to the slaves’ quarters, to my parents, to my fellow-slaves there and to Dryope. Forgive me, my lord.”
“And would you like to go back to Cos, Cora?”
“My lord, our native land remains dear to us. But I belong to you; and where you are there I will be.”
“And shall you be happy there too, Cora, so far from Cos?”
“I shall be happy where you are happy, my lord, and unhappy where you are unhappy.”
Lucius looked at her. He did not take her words to be more than the politeness of a courteous slave, who came from a famous slave-school and for whom he had paid a high price, because of her delicate beauty and her accomplishments. But still the sound of Cora’s voice was pleasant to his ear; and he said, graciously and with a gentle smile:
“You know how to speak the word that sounds well, even as you sing true and play true.”
She made no further answer and bowed her head, feeling that he did not count her words as more than a well-sounding speech:
“Have I your permission, my lord, to go back to the barge?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “go.”
She made a gesture of graceful reverence and moved away. He followed her at a distance. She walked along by the tall reeds of the river. She was very pretty and dainty, like the soft-tinted statuettes that came from Tanagra. Her flowered muslin peplos hung limply pleated around her shapely body in a succession of thin folds, which blew open and shut. Her bare arms were very slender. Her blue-black hair was fine and caught golden gleams. Now, while she stopped to pluck a flowering reed, she stood among the stems like a nymph.
And Lucius smiled because she was so very pretty, so tenderly winsome, because she sang and played the harp so very beautifully and because she said such civil words and had spoken so charmingly of her native island, Cos, where she was born in Dryope’s slave-school.
XX
Uncle Catullus lay under the awning of the thalamegus and asked Cora to come and sit by him:
“Sing and play me some cheerful songs, Cora,” he said. “Be kind to me even though I be not your master. For I feel bored here, on this Nile boat, at Memphis. I have been bored ever since Lucius went to the oracle of
