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Leaning on Phaon's strong shoulder he joyously went out of the house, greeted his handsome young nephew as well as his brother, and said: "Let Phaon live with Xanthe in my house, which will soon be his own, for I am feeble and need help." "With all my heart," cried Protarch, "and it will be well on every account, for, for well, it must come out, for I, foolish graybeard "
"Protarch!" cried Lysander, raising his hands in astonishment; but Phaon nodded to his father approvingly, exchanging a joyous glance with Xanthe. "He has chosen my mother's younger sister," said Leonax. "The younger, yes, but not the youngest," interrupted Protarch. "You must have your wedding in three days, children.
Yet in their gaze might often be read the answer "Something delightful, surely." And yet Xanthe did not come to the spring to paint pictures of her future; on the contrary, she came to be sad, and shed tears unrebuked.
"Nothing, Jason, nothing at all; that is, just as much as Xanthe feels for Phaon. But what's that noise outside the door?" The house-keeper was still talking, when one of the folding doors opened a little, and Dorippe called through the crack: "May we come in? Here's a messenger from Protarch." "Admit him," cried Semestre, eagerly.
That's a snail with horns. A slow creature! It warns people not to be over-hasty. If you feel inclined to run, check your steps and ask where the path will lead." "And move through life like a cart creaping down into the valley with drags on the wheels," interrupted Xanthe. "I expected something unlike school-masters' lessons from the clever hen that loaded Semestre with so many years."
"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.
The roses lay on the ground, the ship from Messina ran into the bay beside the estate, and Semestre hobbled down to the sea to look for Xanthe, and in the place of the master of the house receive her favorite's son, who came as a suitor, like a god. She repeatedly called the girl's name before reaching the marble bench, but always in vain.
Her heart beat violently as she went up to the king with a modest demeanor, her head bent down, but holding her jewel up for him to see. The bystanders all gazed in astonishment at the veteran chief, for he staggered as she came up to him, stretched out his hands as if in terror towards the girl, and drew back crying out: "Xanthe, Xanthe! Is your spirit freed from Hades?
He would know that she could not read; but Xanthe could decipher written sentences, and the young girl must soon appear at breakfast. "Shall I read it?" asked the old man. "I could do so myself, if I chose," replied the house-keeper, drawing her staff over the floor in sharp and blunt angles, as if she were writing.
"Alciphron's son a 'stranger' on the estates of his ancestors!" exclaimed Semestre. "What don't we hear? But I must go to work to prepare the best possible reception for Leonax, that he may feel from the first he is no stranger here, but perfectly at home. Now go, if you choose, and offer sacrifices to Aphrodite, that she may join the hearts of Xanthe and Phaon. I'll stick to my spit."
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