Whatever came of the matter, Artemisia would have to be separated from him.

He might never see her again, and the old Ethiopian loved her more than he did life itself.
"You will not wrong the girl when she is with you ?" he whispered dolefully to Agias.
"I swear by Zeus she shall be treated as if she were my own dear sister," was his reply.
"It is well.

I can trust you; but _mu! mu!_ it is hard, it is hard! I love her like my own eyes! Isis preserve her dear life!" And so at last Artemisia, having cried out all her first burst of grief, was beginning to smile once more.
"And now, oh! makaira,"[128] said Agias, "I must go away for just a little while.

I have ever so many things to attend to; and you must be a good, brave girl, and wait until I come back." [128] Blessed dear.
"_St!"_ broke in Sesostris, "there's a step on the stairs.

Pratinas is coming!" "Hide me!" cried Agias, as the approaching feet grew nearer.