Her "uncle" took her out now and then to the theatre or to the circus; but she had had little enough companionship save such as Sesostris could give; and to her, Agias was a wonderful hero, the master of every art, the victor over a hundred monsters.

He had told her of his adventure with Phaon--not calling names, lest disagreeable consequences ensue--and Artemisia dreamed of him as the cleverest creature on the earth, able to outwit Hermes in subtlety.

Agias had found out when Pratinas was likely to be away from home--and that worthy Hellene, be it said, never declined an invitation to dine with a friend--and Agias timed his visits accordingly.

He taught Artemisia to play the cithera and to sing, and she made such rapid progress under his tutoring that the unconscious Pratinas commended her efforts to acquire the accomplishments he wished.

And Agias was never so happy as when those bright eyes were hanging on his lips or that merry tongue was chattering a thousand pointless remarks or jests.
Yes, Agias found himself in a condition when he could well ask to have no change.