"I had been hoping that you remembered me," he said.
"I am not likely to forget you," she answered.
"I hoped you might remember our childhood, our youth, our love," he groaned.
"I have not forgotten," she said, "not a day, not an hour," she said solemnly.
"And does not your heart soften?" he asked.
"My mother's blood was that of a race of kings," she replied. "We do not transgress our vows. I warned you once, I warned you twice and when finally I swore that everything was at an end between us it was not without days of misery and nights of tears."
"But," he said, "all that is so long ago. I have suffered so long. Can you not relent?"
"My mother," she said, "was Gorgo before me and her mother was Gorgo and hers also and hers. No Gorgo ever relented. Nor I."
"I have been punished enough," he said. "More than enough. And all for a dog and a horse and a slave."
"Clearchos," she said, "you force me to talk. I do not want to talk. You are the only man I ever loved or ever will love. I adored you when I was a toddling child, and you carried me on your back. I loved you all my childish girlhood. Then I worshiped your masterfulness, your sternness, your terrible directness.
