“Helen, I haven’t said a word before my own household; no self-respecting man would do that. When Eteoneus wanted to open the subject, I refused to let him go on.”

“What subject did Eteoneus wish to open?” said Helen.

“That’s ancient history,” said Menelaus. “I was foolish to mention it.”

“You were,” said Helen, “but since you did, I hope you will tell me what Eteoneus wanted to say.”

“I’m sorry, Helen, but I can’t. It wasn’t important, anyway.”

“Menelaus, I suspect it was very important. In any case, it concerns me, and it is of a nature that you prefer to hide from me.”

“Well, I can’t tell you, that’s all there is to it. I don’t wish to, in the first place, and if I did repeat his remarks, you’d accuse me of insulting you, and before I got out of the mess, I’d have to invite some other guest to the house. We haven’t enough food in the storeroom to entertain any more; it was a disappointing harvest, you remember.”

“I won’t be put off this way,” said Helen. “If you decide not to tell me, I’ll ask Eteoneus what he said.”

“Since when have you gone to the gate-keeper for opinions on your own character, Helen? Really, you couldn’t do anything more undignified than that, to talk over our affairs with the servants!”

“I have no intention of discussing our affairs—I’ll merely ask him what mysterious thing it was he said about me.”

“He’ll tell you, of course!” said Menelaus.

“I don’t know whether he will or not, but I can ask him. I’d rather have it from you, but since the servants are whispering things about me, and since you won’t share the information you have, I refuse to remain in the dark.”

“Helen, I see I’ve made too much of a small matter. I’ll tell you the little there is to tell. On my return, Eteoneus asked me just what the attitude of the servants should be to you. They were surprised, he said, that you came back at all, and still more that you were here again as though—well, as though you had never been away. They were prepared, on my return, to cheer my lonely life, he said, but they didn’t know how to meet a situation in which there seemed to be no loneliness, and no need for cheering up. They felt, he said,—”

“When was it you stopped him—prevented him from going on?” said Helen. “That’s quite a speech already.”

“He made it against my will, and rather piece-meal,” said Menelaus. “I kept bringing him back to the subject, but he would digress, and—”

“What was the subject you kept bringing him back to?” said Helen.

“Why, he came in to talk about Hermione,” said Menelaus.

“What?”

“About Hermione and Orestes,” said Menelaus. “He was worried over their intimacy.”

“I can’t believe my ears,” said Helen. “You, who never discuss your wife with the servants, you only discuss your daughter with them—your daughter and her love-affairs! There’s a distinction, I suppose, but I can’t see it. Menelaus, I had no idea you had lost your fineness of feeling! You had it once—what has happened to you? And what will become of us all? At your age, if you begin developing such weaknesses, you will soon deteriorate quite beyond rescue, and your influence on Hermione will be most unfortunate. There’s no cure for vulgarity.”