Rhodopis rose, she laid her right hand on Sappho’s head and her left on Bartja’s, and said:  “There is a myth which tells of a blue lake in the land of roses; its waves are sometimes calm and gentle, but at others they rise into a stormy flood; the taste of its waters is partly sweet as honey, partly bitter as gall.  Ye will learn the meaning of this legend in the marriage-land of roses.  Ye will pass calm and stormy-sweet and bitter hours there.  So long as thou wert a child, Sappho, thy life passed on like a cloudless spring morning, but when thou becam’st a maiden, and hadst learnt to love, thine heart was opened to admit pain; and during the long months of separation pain was a frequent guest there.  This guest will seek admission as long as life lasts.  Bartja, it will be your duty to keep this intruder away from Sappho, as far as it lies in your power.  I know the world.  I could perceive,—­even before Croesus told me of your generous nature,—­that you were worthy of my Sappho.  This justified me in allowing you to eat the quince with her; this induces me now to entrust to you, without fear, what I have always looked upon as a sacred pledge committed to my keeping.  Look upon her too only as a loan.  Nothing is more dangerous to love, than a comfortable assurance of exclusive possession—­I have been blamed for allowing such an inexperienced child to go forth into your distant country, where custom is so unfavorable to women; but I know what love is;—­I know that a girl who loves, knows no home but the heart of her husband;—­the woman whose heart has been touched by Eros no misfortune but that of separation from him whom she has chosen.  And besides, I would ask you, Kallias and Theopompus, is the position of your own wives so superior to that of the Persian women?  Are not the women of Ionia and Attica forced to pass their lives in their own apartments, thankful if they are allowed to cross the street accompanied by suspicious and distrustful slaves?  As to the custom which prevails in Persia of taking many wives, I have no fear either for Bartja or Sappho.  He will be more faithful to his wife than are many Greeks, for he will find in her what you are obliged to seek, on the one hand in marriage, on the other in the houses of the cultivated Hetaere:—­in the former, housewives and mothers, in the latter, animated and enlivening intellectual society.  Take her, my son.  I give her to you as an old warrior gives his sword, his best possession, to his stalwart son:—­he gives it gladly and with confidence.  Whithersoever she may go she will always remain a Greek, and it comforts me to think that in her new home she will bring honor to the Greek name and friends to our nation, Child, I thank thee for those tears.  I can command my own, but fate has made me pay an immeasurable price for the power of doing so.  The gods have heard your oath, my noble Bartja.  Never forget it, but take her as your own, your friend, your wife.  Take her away as soon as your friends return; it is not the will of the gods that the Hymenaeus should be sung at Sappho’s nuptial rites.”