“The wives of other cities marvel at the women of Lakedaemon,” the lady said. “How, they ask, can these Spartan wives stand erect and unblinking as their husbands’ broken bodies are borne home to a grave or, worse, interred beneath some foreign dirt with nothing save cold memory to clutch to their hearts? These women think we are made of stauncher stuff than they. I will tell you, Xeo. We are not. “Do they think we of Lakedaemon love our husbands less than they? Are our hearts made of stone and steel? Do they imagine that our grief is less because we choke it down in our guts?”
