Read Online The Romance of Atlantis by Taylor Caldwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Taylor Caldwell
Ads: Link
fingers, responding to the springlike radiance and untouched virginity of her sister.
After a moment, Tyrhia artfully began to chatter of the day’s gossip, interrupting her own flow of words with supplications that Salustra hasten. “Dost thou know that foolish little Poymnia, Salustra? What dost thou think? She hath lost her heart to Licon, the son of Glaurus, that gilded butcher! Her father declares she shall enter the cloister of Sati if she doth not turn aside her eye, and she is defying him. Is it not absurd? She thinks herself a languishing heroine of the drama, dying of love. And absurdity of absurdities, Licon does not even know that she casts calf eyes upon him. He is serenely in love with Utanlia, and Utanlia hates him, which makes him love her the more. And, oh, dost thou remember Zutlia, whom thou didst call a little crocodile with her sleepy eyes and big sharp teeth? She is betrothed to Seneco, that fat old roue! He drips with jewels, and her father hath lost his fortune in sunken vessels and at the gaming table. So he sells Zutlia, who hath a voluptuous figure. But she is quite content to be sold. She is tired of having but one slave girl to attend her. She puts on such airs! Ludia was here today, also; she minces like a cat, and her mother purrs like one. They fawn when they speak of thee, but they shiver, too, in spite of their wealth. Ludia poked her fingers in the cage of my parrot, and got them well nipped. I laughed until I wept; they departed in high indignation. And today, Salustra, I saw the most entrancing necklace of sapphires; the stars shone in them. And only two thousand sallions! Seneco has them in his shop, and he dangled them for me to admire. Only two thousand sal-lions, Salustra! How they would glitter on thy neck!”
“Or on thine, little hypocrite.” The Empress smiled, twining a yellow curl about her finger. “Go to! Send for the necklace now if thou so desirest. Seneco closes his shop at sundown, but he will gladly open it again. Let the necklace be my present to thee.”
Tyrhia, with a cry of joy, kissed Salustra’s hand. Salustra saw only the childlike blue of those eyes, the light in the eyes of a pleased child, so she considered. She saw nothing of Tyrhia’s mother, Lahia, in her. She called for a messenger and dispatched him for the necklace.
Tyrhia prattled on, and Salustra listened, smilingly, as she continued to eat and drink. Then her smile faded and her brows drew together thoughtfully. Her eye moved over the radiant girl, speculatively, appraisingly. Her hand glided smoothly over that golden head, gently brushed the velvet of that girlish cheek. She broke into the girl’s chatter. “Thou art no longer a child, Tyrhia,” she said suddenly. “Hast thou ever thought of marriage?”
Tyrhia stared at Salustra, and slowly, under the other’s gaze, her color changed. “No,” she answered in a low voice.
“And thou hast no yearning for any youth?”
Tyrhia avoided her gaze. “No,” she said.
Looking at her sister, Salustra was suddenly struck by an idea. “After all, thou art a princess, Tyrhia,” she said briskly, “and must marry wherever it is politic. We live and marry not for ourselves, but for Atlantis.” She quickly turned back the unspoken query. “I myself shall never marry. A queen can only reign alone. But thy children shall rule Atlantis.”
With a flash of insight, Salustra had seen a way to save Atlantis for Lazar’s line.
Not quite heeding her sister, her mind preoccupied with her party, Tyrhia stood at the window briefly and shuddered as a distasteful odor flooded into the gallery with a shift in the breeze. “When will it leave? My air-cooling device no longer works, and it becomes too humid to move a finger.”
Salustra gave her an ironical smile. “And the aircraft, the ships of the sea, the pumps, the land wagons, the wireless, telesound, all things that depend on the electrical vibrations in the atmosphere, what of these, child?
After a moment, Tyrhia artfully began to chatter of the day’s gossip, interrupting her own flow of words with supplications that Salustra hasten. “Dost thou know that foolish little Poymnia, Salustra? What dost thou think? She hath lost her heart to Licon, the son of Glaurus, that gilded butcher! Her father declares she shall enter the cloister of Sati if she doth not turn aside her eye, and she is defying him. Is it not absurd? She thinks herself a languishing heroine of the drama, dying of love. And absurdity of absurdities, Licon does not even know that she casts calf eyes upon him. He is serenely in love with Utanlia, and Utanlia hates him, which makes him love her the more. And, oh, dost thou remember Zutlia, whom thou didst call a little crocodile with her sleepy eyes and big sharp teeth? She is betrothed to Seneco, that fat old roue! He drips with jewels, and her father hath lost his fortune in sunken vessels and at the gaming table. So he sells Zutlia, who hath a voluptuous figure. But she is quite content to be sold. She is tired of having but one slave girl to attend her. She puts on such airs! Ludia was here today, also; she minces like a cat, and her mother purrs like one. They fawn when they speak of thee, but they shiver, too, in spite of their wealth. Ludia poked her fingers in the cage of my parrot, and got them well nipped. I laughed until I wept; they departed in high indignation. And today, Salustra, I saw the most entrancing necklace of sapphires; the stars shone in them. And only two thousand sallions! Seneco has them in his shop, and he dangled them for me to admire. Only two thousand sal-lions, Salustra! How they would glitter on thy neck!”
“Or on thine, little hypocrite.” The Empress smiled, twining a yellow curl about her finger. “Go to! Send for the necklace now if thou so desirest. Seneco closes his shop at sundown, but he will gladly open it again. Let the necklace be my present to thee.”
Tyrhia, with a cry of joy, kissed Salustra’s hand. Salustra saw only the childlike blue of those eyes, the light in the eyes of a pleased child, so she considered. She saw nothing of Tyrhia’s mother, Lahia, in her. She called for a messenger and dispatched him for the necklace.
Tyrhia prattled on, and Salustra listened, smilingly, as she continued to eat and drink. Then her smile faded and her brows drew together thoughtfully. Her eye moved over the radiant girl, speculatively, appraisingly. Her hand glided smoothly over that golden head, gently brushed the velvet of that girlish cheek. She broke into the girl’s chatter. “Thou art no longer a child, Tyrhia,” she said suddenly. “Hast thou ever thought of marriage?”
Tyrhia stared at Salustra, and slowly, under the other’s gaze, her color changed. “No,” she answered in a low voice.
“And thou hast no yearning for any youth?”
Tyrhia avoided her gaze. “No,” she said.
Looking at her sister, Salustra was suddenly struck by an idea. “After all, thou art a princess, Tyrhia,” she said briskly, “and must marry wherever it is politic. We live and marry not for ourselves, but for Atlantis.” She quickly turned back the unspoken query. “I myself shall never marry. A queen can only reign alone. But thy children shall rule Atlantis.”
With a flash of insight, Salustra had seen a way to save Atlantis for Lazar’s line.
Not quite heeding her sister, her mind preoccupied with her party, Tyrhia stood at the window briefly and shuddered as a distasteful odor flooded into the gallery with a shift in the breeze. “When will it leave? My air-cooling device no longer works, and it becomes too humid to move a finger.”
Salustra gave her an ironical smile. “And the aircraft, the ships of the sea, the pumps, the land wagons, the wireless, telesound, all things that depend on the electrical vibrations in the atmosphere, what of these, child?
Similar Books
