"Yes, that is what I should say--I say it to myself now even in the short
while I am absent from you dressing!"

The lady's eyes brimmed with tenderness. "Paul!--you do love me, my own!"
she said.

"Oh, why can't we go on and travel together, darling?" Paul continued. "I
want you to show me the world--at least the best of Europe. In every
country you would make me feel the spirit of the place. Let us go to
Greece, and see the temples and worship those old gods. They knew about
love, did they not?"

The lady leant back and smiled, as if she liked to hear him talk.

"I often ask myself did they really know," she said. "They knew the whole
material part of it at any rate. They were perhaps too practical to have
indulged in the mental emotions we weave into it now--but they were wise,
they did not educate the wives and daughters, they realised that to perform
well domestic duties a woman's mind should not be over-trained in learning.
Learning and charm and grace of mind were for the others, the _hetaerae_ of
whom they asked no tiresome ties. And in all ages it is unfortunately not
the simple good women who have ruled the hearts of men. Think of Pericles
and Aspasia--Antony and Cleopatra--Justinian and Theodora--Belisarius and
Antonina--and later, all the mistresses of the French kings--even, too,
your English Nelson and Lady Hamilton! Not one of these was a man's ideal
of what a wife and mother ought to be. So no doubt the Greeks were right in
that principle, as they were right in all basic principles of art and
balance. And now we mix the whole thing up, my Paul--domesticity and
learning--nerves and art, and feverish cravings for the impossible new--so