pon the benches,
all with their eyes fixed upon the stage. He also observed that there
were soldiers round the walls, and that a considerable part of the hall
was filled by a body of youths of foreign aspect, with white gowns and
long hair. All this he perceived; but what it meant he could not
imagine. He bent over to a neighbour to ask him, but a soldier prodded
him at once with the butt end of his spear, and commanded him fiercely
to hold his peace. The man whom he had addressed, thinking that Policles
had demanded a seat, pressed closer to his neighbour, and so the
shepherd found himself sitting at the end of the bench which was nearest
to the door. Thence he concentrated himself upon the stage, on which
Metas, a well-known minstrel from Corinth and an old friend of Policles,
was singing and playing without much encouragement from the audience. To
Policles it seemed that Metas was having less than his due, so he
applauded loudly, but he was surprised to observe that the soldiers
frowned at him, and that all his neighbours regarded him with some
surprise. Being a man of strong and obstinate character, he was the more
inclined to persevere in his clapping when he perceived that the general
sentiment was against him.

But what followed filled the shepherd poet with absolute amazement. When
Metas of Corinth had made his bow and withdrawn to half-hearted and
perfunctory applause, there appeared upon the stage, amid the wildest
enthusiasm upon the part of the audience, a most extraordinary figure.
He was a short fat man, neither old nor young, with a bull neck and a
round, heavy face, which hung in creases in front like the dewlap of an
ox. He was absurdly clad in a short blue tunic, braced at the waist with
a golden belt. His neck and part of his chest were exposed, and his
short, fat legs were bare from the buskins below to the middle of his
thighs, which was as far as his tunic extended. In his hair were two
golden wings, and the same upon his heels, after the fashion of the god
Mercury. Behind him walked a negro bearing a harp, and beside him a
richly dressed officer who bore rolls of music. This strange creature
took the harp from the hands of the attendant, and advanced to the front
of the stage, whence he bowed and smiled to the cheering audience. "This
is some foppish singer from Athens," thought Policles to himself, but at
the same time he understood that only a great master of song could
receive such a reception