l to lamenting his own fate. He had
agreed to find Lygia. He had sought for her in peril of his life, and he
had pointed her out. But what more do they want? Had he offered to
carry the maiden away? Who could ask anything like this of a maimed man
deprived of two fingers, an old man, devoted to meditation, to science,
and virtue? What would happen were a lord of such dignity as Vinicius to
meet some mishap while bearing the maiden away? It is true that the gods
are bound to watch over their chosen ones,--but have not such things
happened more than once, as if the gods were playing games instead of
watching what was passing in the world? Fortune is blindfold, as is
well known, and does not see even in daylight; what must the case be at
night? Let something happen,--let that Lygian bear hurl a millstone at
the noble Vinicius, or a keg of wine, or, still worse, water,--who
will give assurance that instead of a reward blame will not fall on
the hapless Chilo? He, the poor sage, has attached himself to the noble
Vinicius as Aristotle to Alexander of Macedon. If the noble lord should
give him at least that purse which he had thrust into his girdle before
leaving home, there would be something with which to invoke aid in
case of need, or to influence the Christians. Oh, why not listen to the
counsels of an old man, counsels dictated by experience and prudence?

Vinicius, hearing this, took the purse from his belt, and threw it to
the fingers of Chilo.

"Thou hast it; be silent!"

The Greek felt that it was unusually heavy, and gained confidence.

"My whole hope is in this," said he, "that Hercules or Theseus performed
deeds still more arduous; what is my personal, nearest friend, Croton,
if not Hercules? Thee, worthy lord, I will not call a demigod, for thou
art a full god, and in future thou wilt not forget a poor, faithful
servant, whose needs it will be necessary to provide for from time to
time, for once he is sunk in books, he thinks of nothing else; some
few stadia of garden land and a little house, even with the smallest
portico, for coolness in summer, would befit such a donor. Meanwhile
I shall admire thy heroic deeds from afar, and invoke Jove to befriend
thee, and if need be I will make such an outcry that half Rome will be
roused to thy assistance. What a wretched, rough road! The olive oil
is burned out in the lantern; and if Croton, who is as noble as he is
strong, would bear me to the gate in his arms, he wou