ook my seat.

She gave me one of her queer, sidelong looks. "Deucalion may have more
beside, if he asks for it prettily. He may have what all the other men
in the known world have sighed for, and what none of them will ever
get. But I have given enough of my own accord; he must ask me warmly for
those further favours."

"I ask," I said, "first, that I may sweep the boundaries clear of this
rabble which is clamouring against the city walls."

"Pah," she said, and frowned. "Have you appetite only for the sterner
pleasures of life? My good Deucalion, they must have been rustic folk
in that colony of yours. Well, you shall give me news now of the
toothsomeness of this feast."

Dishes and goblets were placed before us, and we began to eat, though I
had little enough appetite for victual so broken and so highly spiced.
But if this finicking cookery and these luscious wines did not appeal
to me, the other diners in that gorgeous hall appreciated it all to the
full. They sat about in groups on the pavement beneath the light-jets
like a tangle of rainbows for colour, and according to the new custom
they went into raptures and ecstasies over their enjoyment. Women and
men both, they lingered over each titillation of the palate as though it
were a caress of the Gods.

Phorenice, with her quick, bright eyes, looked on, and occasionally
flung one or another a few words between her talk with me, and now and
again called some favoured creature up to receive a scrap of viand
from the royal dish. This the honoured one would eat with extravagant
gesture, or (as happened twice) would put it away in the folds of his
clothes as a treasure too dear to be profaned by human lips.

To me, this flattery appeared gross and disgustful, but Phorenice,
through use, perhaps, seemed to take it as merely her due. There was,
one had to suppose, a weakness in her somewhere, though truly to the
outward seeing none was apparent. Her face was strong enough, and it was
subtle also, and, moreover, it was wondrous comely. All the courtiers in
the banqueting-hall raved about Phorenice's face and the other beauties
of her body and limbs, and though not given to appreciation in these
matters, I could not but see that here at least they had a groundwork
for their admiration, for surely the Gods have never favoured mortal
woman more highly. Yet lovely though she might be, for myself I
preferred to look upon Ylga, the girl, who, because of her rank, was
privi