The Complete Short Works of Georg Ebers Part 18

"It is beautiful in Agrigentum!" interrupted the conjurer, pointing with his finger impressively in the direction of this famous city.

"It is delightful there," cried the old woman, "so long as one doesn't meet pygmies like you in the streets."

The house-keeper was struggling for breath, and her master took advantage of the pause to murmur beseechingly, like a child who is to be deprived of something it loves:

"Mopsus must go--merry Mopsus? n.o.body knows how to lift and support me so well."

These words softened Semestre's wrath, and, lowering her voice, she replied:

"You will no longer need the lad for that purpose; Leonax, Alciphron's son, is coming to-day. He'll lift and support you as if you were his own father. The people in Messina are friendly and honor age, for, while you jeer at me, they remember the old woman, and will send me a beautiful matron's-robe for the future wedding."

The invalid looked inquiringly at his daughter, and the latter answered, blushing:

"Semestre has told me. She informed me, while I was cutting the cloth, that Leonax would come as a suitor."

"May he fare better than Alkamenes and the others, whom you sent home!

You know I will not force your inclinations, but, if I am to lose Mopsus, I should like a pleasant son. Why has Phaon fallen into such foolish, evil ways? The young Leonax--"

"Is of a different stamp," interrupted Semestre--"Now come, my dove, I have a thousand things to do."

"Go," replied Xanthe. "I'll come directly.--You will feel better, father, if you rest now. Let me help you into the house, and lie down on the cushion for a time."

The young girl tried to lift her father, but her strength was too feeble to raise the wearied man. At last, with the conjurer's help, he succeeded in rising, and the latter whispered earnestly in his ear:

"My hens tell me many things, but another oracle behind my forehead says, you are on the high-road to recovery, but you won't reach the goal, unless you treat the old woman, who is limping into the house yonder, as I do the birds I train."

"And what do you do?"

"Teach them to obey me, and if I see that they a.s.sert their own wills, sell them and seek others."

"You are not indebted to the stupid creatures for anything?"

"But I owe so much the more to the others, who do their duty."

"Quite true, and therefore you feed and keep them."

"Until they begin to grow old and refuse obedience."

"And then?"

"Then I give them to a peasant, on whose land they lay eggs, eat and die. The right farmer for your hens lives in Agrigentum."

Lysander shrugged his shoulders; and, as, leaning on his daughter, he tottered slowly forward, almost falling on the threshold, Xanthe took a silent vow to give him a son on whom he could firmly depend--a stalwart, reliable man.

CHAPTER IV.

THE TWO SUCKING-PIGS.

Fifteen minutes had pa.s.sed, and the old house-keeper's face still glowed--no longer from anger, but because, full of zeal, she now moulded cakes before the bright flames on the hearth, now basted the roast on the spit with its own juices.

Beside her stood old Jason, who could not give up his young master's cause for lost, and exposed himself once more to the arrows of Semestre's angry words, because he bitterly repented having irritated instead of winning her.

Unfortunately, his soothing speeches fell on hard ground, for Semestre scarcely vouchsafed a reply, and at last distinctly intimated that he interrupted her.

"Attention," she said, "is the mother of every true success. It is even more needful in cooking than in weaving; and if Leonax, for whom my hands are busy, resembles his father, he knows how to distinguish bad from good."

"Alciphron," replied Jason, "liked the figs on our arbor by the house better than yours."

"And while he was enjoying them," cried the old woman, "you beat him with a hazel rod. I can hear him cry now, poor little dear."

"Too many figs are bad for the stomach," replied the old man, very slowly and distinctly, but not too loud, that he might not remind her of her deafness. Then seeing Semestre smile, he drew nearer, and with winning cheerfulness continued: "Be sensible, and don't try to part the children, who belong to each other. Xanthe, too, is fond of figs, and, if Leonax shares his father's taste, how will the sweet fruit of your favorite trees fare, if Hymen unites them in marriage? Phaon doesn't care for sweet things. But seriously: though his father may seek twenty brides for him, he himself wants no one but Xanthe. And can you deny that he is a handsome, powerful fellow?"

"So is the other," cried Semestre, wholly unmoved by these words. "Have you seen your favorite this morning? No! Do you know where he slept last night and the night before?"

"On his couch, I suppose."

"In your house?"

"I don't run after the youth, now he is grown up."

"Neither shall we! You are giving yourself useless trouble, Jason, and I earnestly beg you not to disturb me any longer now, for a dark spot is already appearing on the roast. Quick, Chloris--lift the spit from the fire!"

"I should like to bid Lysander good-morning."

"He is tired, and wants to see no one. The servants have vexed him."

"Then I'll stay awhile in the garden."

"To try your luck with Xanthe? I tell you, it's trouble wasted, for she's dressing her hair to receive our guest from Messina; and, if she were standing where those cabbage-leaves be, she wouldn't contradict me if I were to repeat what you heard from my lips this morning at sunrise.

Our girl will never become Phaon's wife until I myself offer a sacrifice to Aphrodite, that she may fill Xanthe's heart with love for him."

Jason shrugged his shoulders, and was preparing to turn his back on the old woman, when Dorippe entered and approached the hearth. Her eyes were red with weeping, and in her arms she carried a round, yellowish-white creature that, struggling and stretching it's little legs in the air, squealed in a clear, shrill voice, even more loudly and piteously than a hungry babe.

It was a pretty, well-fattened sucking pig.

Jason looked at it significantly, but Semestre s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of the girl's arms, pressed it to her own bosom, turned her back upon the old man with resolute meaning, and said, just loud enough for him alone to hear:

"A roast for the banquet."

As soon as Jason had left the room, she put the nicely-washed pig on a little wooden bench, ordered Chloris to see that it did not soil itself; drew from a small box, standing beside the loom, one blue ribbon and two red ones; tied the former carefully around the little creature's curly tail, and the latter about its cars; lifted the pig again, looked at it as a mother gazes at her prettily-dressed darling, patted its fattest parts with her right-hand, and ordered Dorippe to carry it to Aphrodite's temple immediately.

"It's a beautiful creature, absolutely faultless, and the priest must slay it at once in Honor of the gracious G.o.ddess. I will come myself, as soon as everything is ready here; and, after such a gift, foam-born Cypris will surely grant my pet.i.tion. Hide the little treasure carefully under your robe, that no one may see it."

"It struggles and squeals when I carry it," replied the girl.