And we worked still late, our lamps guttering in the wind, the air rough from the mainland, tasting of salt. Shutters groaned.

"To strike a balance between common sense and law, this is the cause to which we must pledge ourselves. Our local tyrants must go. They realize there isn't enough corn. Poverty, we must grind against poverty. If our established life and prosperity can't be made to serve, they, too, will go..."

Walking home, I was hardly aware that a gale had sprung up. Exekias, carrying my cloak, seemed surprised at my singing.

A note from Rhodopis-naturally, I was astonished. Her note concerned Kleis: could we talk together?

It was hard to order my thoughts. Rhodopis writing to me, especially with Charaxos gone...

I fixed an hour and we met at a discreet distance from the square, a bench in the rear of a small temple.

Despite the extravagant clothes, the careful makeup, how hard the eyes, the mouth. And I wondered how I looked to her, in my simple dress. But Rhodopis knows the sister of Charaxos is not naive.

It was a brief meeting, cold, the matter quickly attended to.

After waving her servants to stand apart, she faced me with unveiled scorn:

"You daughter's visits are making my household a difficult one," she said.

I flushed.

"So the plaintiff has become the accused? An interesting reversal," I murmured.

"I will expect thanks," she said, with a mocking smile, twisting her parasol into the sand, "for sparing you public embarrassment."

I knew she was sharpening her wits, and paused. She lifted a scented handkerchief to her mouth and took a slow breath.

"I have waited a long time for this, but I'm more charitable than you think. I won't keep you waiting. It is Mallia-a servant boy, who has caught Kleis' fancy..."

Vaguely, I had the flash of an image: a fair, slim, country boy, not one of the slaves.

"And what is it you want?" I said, in the same level voice.

The parasol twirled.

"Oh, things could be arranged..."

I did not doubt this. But not knowing the relationship between Kleis and Mallia, remained silent. My silence seemed to exasperate Rhodopis.

"Of course, you could send Kleis to a thiase in Andros," she exclaimed. I refused to flinch. Sending one's daughter to school elsewhere was to admit one's own school had failed. Rhodopis knew this, as well as I.

"Or, I could dismiss Mallia, but then, where would the lovers meet?

And if he took her home with him..."

I still waited. Somewhere there was a trap. Rhodopis had not written, then met me, without a purpose.

"Perhaps you have given too much thought to family honor, Sappho. So critical of Charaxos...of me." Her voice had grown confidential.

"If Kleis has done anything foolish, I am willing to accept the responsibility," I said.

"And the consequence, too...with my husband?"

I stood up, brushing off the bench dust.

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.

Why?

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?

Love is a jealous companion.

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?

I have sent for Kleis...

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.