Pratinas occasionally repeated his morning calls upon Valeria.  He seemed much engrossed with business, but was always the same suave, elegant, accomplished personage that had endeared him to that lady’s heart.  One morning he came in, in unusually good spirits.  “Congratulate me,” he exclaimed, after saluting Valeria; “I have disposed of a very delicate piece of work, and my mind can take a little rest.  At least I have roughly chiselled out the matter, as a sculptor would say, and can now wait a bit before finishing.  Ah! what elegant study is this which is engrossing your ladyship this morning?”

“Pisander is reading from the works of Gorgias of Leontini,” said Valeria, languidly.

“To be sure,” went on Pratinas; “I have always had the greatest respect for the three nihilistic propositions of that philosopher.  To read him one is half convinced of the affirmation that nothing exists; that if anything existed, the fact could not be known, and that if the fact were known, it could not be communicated; although of course, my dear madam, there are very grave objections to accepting such views in their fulness.”

“Of course,” echoed Valeria.  “Pisander, read Pratinas that little poem of Archilochus, whose sentiment I so much admired, when I happened on it yesterday.”

Pisander fumbled among his rolls, then read, perhaps throwing a bit of sarcasm into his tone:—­

  “Gyges’[67] wealth and honours great
    Come not nigh to me! 
  Heavenly pow’r, or tyrant’s state,
    I’ll not envy thee. 
  Swift let any sordid prize
  Fade and vanish from my eyes!”

  [67] A Lydian king whose wealth was placed on a par with that of the
  better known Croesus.

“Your ladyship,” said Pratinas, appearing entranced by the lines, “is ever in search of the pearls of refined expression!”

“I wish,” said Valeria, whose mind ran from Gorgias to Archilochus, and then back to quite foreign matters, with lightning rapidity, “you would tell Kallias, the sculptor, that the head-dress on my statue in the atrium must be changed.  I don’t arrange my hair that way any longer.  He must put on a new head-dress without delay."[68]

  [68] Such alterations were actually made in Rome.

“Certainly,” assented the Greek.

“And now,” said the lady, half entreating, half insinuating, “you must tell me what has made you so abstracted lately; that business you mentioned, which compelled you to restrict your calls.”

“My dear Valeria,” said Pratinas, casting a glance over at Pisander in his corner, “I dislike mysteries; but perhaps there are some things which I had better not reveal to any one.  Don’t be offended, but—­”

“I am offended,” exclaimed the lady, striking her lap with her hands, “and I accept no ‘buts.’  I will be as silent about all your affairs as about the mysteries of the Bona Dea.[69]”