her kindness of
heart. She freed slaves in memory of the unfortunate navigator, she sent
costly offerings to all the temples in Saguntum, she raised on the
Acropolis a cenotaph in memory of Bomaro, summoning marble-workers from
Athens for this purpose. By her charities she won consideration,
bringing this city of sturdy and austere customs to tolerate her bright,
mirth-loving existence, which was a perpetuation of Athenian manners in
the midst of Iberic sobriety.

Having passed the period of mourning, she gave suppers in her
country-house which lasted until dawn. She brought famous auletai from
Attica who set the Saguntine youths wild with their flutes. She sent
ships on voyages with no other commercial object than to bring rare
perfumes from Asia, fabrics from Egypt, and unique adornments from
Carthage; and her fame extended so far into the interior that kinglets
from Celtiberia were drawn to Saguntum to behold that wonderful woman,
as wise as a priestess, and as beautiful as a divinity. The Greeks
admired her, observing that she strengthened the prestige of their race
among the primitive Saguntines, who were lavish with eulogy of her
disinterestedness. Thus she lived! No women entered her house, none but
flute-players, dancers, and slaves; she was surrounded by men who
yearned for her, but she held herself aloof, and treated them all with a
masculine but distant intimacy. She was ever thinking of Athens the
luminous, the city which held so many memories, and many of whose
customs she sought to revive.

Euphobias the philosopher, as he reached this point in his story,
stoutly declared that Sonnica's life in Saguntum was above reproach, in
spite of what the Greek women of the district of the merchants said. He
himself, who possessed the bitterest tongue in the city, affirmed it.
Several times she had been attracted toward some guest at her dinners.
Alorcus, the scion of a petty king of Celtiberia, who lived in Saguntum
and frequented her house, had made an impression upon her with his wild,
virile beauty, as a son of the mountains; but Sonnica held him back,
plainly fearing to take the step and unite herself with one of a
barbarous race. The memory of Attica wholly occupied her imagination. If
some young Athenian had landed on those shores, some youth as beautiful
as Alcibiades, singing verses, modeling statues, and displaying skill
and dexterity as in the Olympian games, perhaps she might have fallen
into his arms, b