appealed to his torturers without
uttering a word. "It's Giton! It's Giton!" the maids all screamed in
unison. "Hold your hands, you brutes; help, Madame, it's Giton!"
Tryphaena turned willing ears, she had recognized that voice herself, and
flew to the boy. Lycas, who knew me as well as if he had heard my voice,
now ran up; he glanced at neither face nor hands, but directed his eyes
towards parts lower down; courteously he shook hands with them, "How do
you do, Encolpius," he said. Let no one be surprised at Ulysses' nurse
discovering, after twenty years, the scar that established his identity,
since this man, so keenly observant, had, in spite of the most skillful
disguise of every feature and the obliteration of every identifying mark
upon my body, so surely hit upon the sole means of identifying his
fugitive! Deceived by our appearance, Tryphaena wept bitterly,
believing that the marks upon our foreheads were, in truth, the brands
of prisoners: she asked us gently, into what slave's prison we had fallen
in our wanderings, and whose cruel hands had inflicted this punishment.
Still, fugitives whose members had gotten them into trouble certainly
deserved some punishment.

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTH.

In a towering passion, Lycas leaped forward, "Oh you silly woman," he
shouted, "as if those scars were made by the letters on the
branding-iron! If only they had really blotched up their foreheads with
those inscriptions, it would be some satisfaction to us, at least; but
as it is, we are being imposed upon by an actor's tricks, and hoaxed by
a fake inscription!" Tryphaena was disposed to mercy, as all was not
lost for her pleasures, but Lycas remembered the seduction of his wife
and the insults to which he had been subjected in the portico of the
temple of Hercules: "Tryphaena," he gritted out, his face convulsed with
savage passion, "you are aware, I believe, that the immortal gods have a
hand in human affairs: what did they do but lead these scoundrels aboard
this ship in ignorance of the owner and then warn each of us alike, by a
coincidence of dreams, of what they had done? Can you then see how it
would be possible to let off those whom a god has, himself, delivered up
to punishment? I am not a cruel man; what moves me is this: I am afraid
I shall have to endure myself whatever I remit to them!" At this
superstitious plea Tryphaena veered around; denying that she would
plead for quarter, she