So far we may trust our sculptors and painters and poets: but for her crowning glory, for the grace—nay, the choir of Graces and Loves that encircle her—who shall portray them? Polystratus This was no earthly vision, Lycinus; surely she must have dropped from the clouds.—And what was she doing? Lycinus In her hands was an open scroll; half read (so I surmised) and half to be read. As she passed, she was making some remark to one of her company; what it was I did not catch. But when she smiled, ah! then, Polystratus, I beheld teeth whose whiteness, whose unbroken regularity, who shall describe? Imagine a lovely necklace of gleaming pearls, all of a size; and imagine those dazzling rows set off by ruby lips. In that glimpse, I realized what Homer meant by his ‘carven ivory.” Other women’s teeth differ in size; or they project; or there are gaps: here, all was equality and evenness; pearl joined to pearl in unbroken line. Oh, ’twas a wondrous sight, of beauty more than human.

 

 Polystratus Stay. I know now whom you mean, as well from your description as from her nationality. You said that there were eunuchs in her train? Lycinus Yes; and soldiers too. Polystratus My simple friend, the lady you have been describing is a celebrity, and possesses the affections of an Emperor. Lycinus And her name? Polystratus Adds one more to the list of her charms; for it is the same as that of Abradatas’s wife. See Panthea in Notes. You know Xenophon’s enthusiastic account of that beautiful and virtuous woman?—And you have read it a dozen times. Lycinus Yes; and every time I read it, it is as if she stood before me. I almost hear her uttering the words the historian has put into her mouth, and see her arming her husband and sending him forth to battle.