She was sitting with Phanes in a shady arbor near the cooling spray of a fountain.  One could see that she had been weeping again, but her face was beautiful and kind as ever.  The Athenian was holding her hand and trying to comfort her.

Rhodopis listened patiently, and smiled the while; at times her smile was bitter, at others it gave assent to his words.  At last however she interrupted her well-intentioned friend, by saying: 

“Phanes, I thank you.  Sooner or later this last disgrace must be forgotten too.  Time is clever in the healing art.  If I were weak I should leave Naukratis and live in retirement for my grandchild alone; a whole world, believe me, lies slumbering in that young creature.  Many and many a time already I have longed to leave Egypt, and as often have conquered the wish.  Not because I cannot live without the homage of your sex; of that I have already had more than enough in my life, but because I feel that I, the slave-girl and the despised woman once, am now useful, necessary, almost indispensable indeed, to many free and noble men.  Accustomed as I am, to an extended sphere of work, in its nature resembling a man’s, I could not content myself in living for one being alone, however dear.  I should dry up like a plant removed from a rich soil into the desert, and should leave my grandchild desolate indeed, three times orphaned, and alone in the world.  No!  I shall remain in Egypt.

“Now that you are leaving, I shall be really indispensable to our friends here.  Amasis is old; when Psamtik comes to the throne we shall have infinitely greater difficulties to contend with than heretofore.  I must remain and fight on in the fore-front of our battle for the freedom and welfare of the Hellenic race.  Let them call my efforts unwomanly if they will.  This is, and shall be, the purpose of my life, a purpose to which I will remain all the more faithful, because it is one of those to which a woman rarely dares devote her life.  During this last night of tears I have felt that much, very much of that womanly weakness still lingers in me which forms at once the happiness and misery of our sex.  To preserve this feminine weakness in my granddaughter, united with perfect womanly delicacy, has been my first duty; my second to free myself entirely from it.  But a war against one’s own nature cannot be carried on without occasional defeat, even if ultimately successful.  When grief and pain are gaining the upperhand and I am well nigh in despair, my only help lies in remembering my friend Pythagoras, that noblest among men, and his words:  ’Observe a due proportion in all things, avoid excessive joy as well as complaining grief, and seek to keep thy soul in tune and harmony like a well-toned harp.’”