ick Lysias to the fair Irene'--Only
look, Publius, how the little monster grins at me with his white teeth.
You shall hear that his Greek is far less faultless than his teeth.
Prick up your ears, you little ichneumon--now once more repeat what you
are to say in there--do you see where I am pointing with my finger?--to
the master or to the lady who shall take the doves from you."

With much pitiful stammering the boy repeated the Corinthian's message
to Irene, and as he stood there with his mouth wide open, Lysias, who
was an expert at "ducks and drakes" on the water, neatly tossed into it
a silver drachma. This mouthful was much to the little rascal's taste,
for after he had taken the coin out of his mouth he stood with wide-open
jaws opposite his liberal master, waiting for another throw; Lysias
however boxed him lightly on his ears, and chucked him under the chin,
saying as he snapped the boy's teeth together:

"Now carry up the birds and wait for the answer." "This offering is to
Irene, then?" said Publius. "We have not met for a long time; where were
you all day yesterday?"

"It will be far more entertaining to hear what you were about all the
night long. You are dressed as if you had come straight here from Rome.
Euergetes has already sent for you once this morning, and the queen
twice; she is over head and ears in love with you."

"Folly! Tell me now what you were doing all yesterday."

"Tell me first where you have been."

"I had to go some distance and will tell you all about it later, but
not now; and I encountered strange things on my way--aye, I must say
extraordinary things. Before sunrise I found a bed in the inn yonder,
and to my own great surprise I slept so soundly that I awoke only two
hours since."

"That is a very meagre report; but I know of old that if you do not
choose to speak no god could drag a syllable from you. As regards myself
I should do myself an injury by being silent, for my heart is like an
overloaded beast of burden and talking will relieve it. Ah! Publius,
my fate to-day is that of the helpless Tantalus, who sees juicy pears
bobbing about under his nose and tempting his hungry stomach, and yet
they never let him catch hold of them, only look-in there dwells Irene,
the pear, the peach, the pomegranate, and my thirsting heart is consumed
with longing for her. You may laugh--but to-day Paris might meet Helen
with impunity, for Eros has shot his whole store of arrows into me. You