“Why? Are you afraid?” he asked.

“Of what?”

“That it might bring bad luck.”

He laughed ironically, as he flipped and caught the scarab, with a flick of his wrist.

“What is it you want?” I asked, coming directly to the point.

“To be treated with respect, Rhodopis and I—not criticized.”

“Do I say too much?”

“I don’t like your tongue.” He was scowling now.

“Nor I your woman’s!”

“Leave her out! I warn you—she’s no longer a slave!”

“It wasn’t that she was a slave that bothered me.”

“A courtesan, then!”

“No, you should know better than that. Oh, no...it was your assumption that our family funds could be lifted, without my consent and without my knowledge. Taken to buy Rhodopis. You sold three or four wine ships to pay her price, along with the money taken from me.”

“Can’t you forget...”

“Not conveniently. Nobody enjoys being robbed.”

“I have said I would repay you.”

“But that was nearly two years ago. And you go right on selling wine and buying equipment. I have heard that you added a ship last month. Wasn’t it con­venient to pay me then?”

His fist tightened over the scarab, and he bowed and turned away, rejoining his wife who was strolling behind us with her friends and servants.

Theatre!

P

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