But as to the matter of a goddess, I know not.
Many would say that thou sitting on thine ivory chair in thy golden raiment,
with thy fair bosom and white arms and yellow hair, wert not ill done
for the image of a goddess; and this young man may well think so of thee.
However that may be, there is something else I will say to thee;
(and thou knowest that I speak the truth to thee--most often--
though I be wily). This is the word, that although thou hast time
and again treated me like the thrall I am, I deem thee no ill woman,
but rather something overgood for Utterbol and the dark lord thereof."
Now sat the Lady shaken with sobs, and weeping without stint; but she
looked up at that word and said: "Nay, nay, Agatha, it is not so.
To-day hath this man's eyes been a candle to me, that I may see
myself truly; and I know that though I am a queen and not uncomely,
I am but coarse and little-minded. I rage in my household when
the whim takes me, and I am hot-headed, and masterful, and slothful,
and should belike be untrue if there were any force to drive me thereto.
And I suffer my husband to go after other women, and this new thrall
is especial, so that I may take my pleasure unstayed with other men whom
I love not greatly. Yes, I am foolish, and empty-headed, and unclean.
And all this he will see through my queenly state, and my golden gown,
and my white skin withal."
Agatha looked on her curiously, but smiling no more.
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