“Rhodope.  As it was, every one had bought exactly such another in time past, and been a loser by it.  At these speeches, I perceived the flowers tremble slightly on my bosom, from my father’s agitation.  Although he scoffed at them, knowing my healthiness, he was troubled internally, and said many short prayers, not very unlike imprecations, turning his head aside.  Proud was I, prouder than ever, when at last several talents were offered for me, and by the very man who in the beginning had undervalued me most, and prophesied the worst of me.  My father scowled at him and refused the money.  I thought he was playing a game, and began to wonder what it could be, since I had never seen it played before.  Then I fancied it might be some celebration because plenty had returned to the city, insomuch that my father had bartered the last of the corn he hoarded.

“I grew more and more delighted at the sport.  But soon there advanced an elderly man, who said gravely, ’Thou hast stolen this child; her vesture alone is worth a hundred drachmas.  Carry her home again to her parents, and do it directly, or Nemesis and the Eumenides will overtake thee.’  Knowing the estimation in which my father had always been holden by his fellow-citizens, I laughed again and pinched his ear.  He, although naturally choleric, burst forth into no resentment at these reproaches, but said calmly, ’I think I know thee by name, O guest!  Surely thou art Xanthus, the Samian.  Deliver this child from famine.’

“Again I laughed aloud and heartily, and thinking it was now part of the game, I held out both my arms, and protruded my whole body toward the stranger.  He would not receive me from my father’s neck, but he asked me with benignity and solicitude if I was hungry; at which I laughed again, and more than ever; for it was early in the morning, soon after the first meal, and my father had nourished me most carefully and plentifully in all the days of the famine.  But Xanthus, waiting for no answer, took out of a sack, which one of his slaves carried at his side, a cake of wheaten bread and a piece of honeycomb, and gave them to me.  I held the honeycomb to my father’s mouth, thinking it the most of a dainty.  He dashed it to the ground, but seizing the bread he began to devour it ferociously.  This also I thought was in the play, and I clapped my hands at his distortions.  But Xanthus looked at him like one afraid, and smote the cake from him, crying aloud, ’Name the price,’ My father now placed me in his arms, naming a price much below what the other had offered, saying, ’The gods are ever with thee, O Xanthus! therefore to thee do I consign my child.’

“But while Xanthus was counting out the silver my father seized the cake again, which the slave had taken up and was about to replace in the wallet.  His hunger was exasperated by the taste, and the delay.  Suddenly there arose much tumult.  Turning round in the old woman’s