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In the event of her death, she left to Xanthe, the wife of the centurion Martialis, her lawful property the villa at Kanopus, with all it contained, and the gardens appertaining to it, for the free use of herself and her children. The soldier listened speechless with astonishment. This gift was worth twenty houses in the city, and made its owner a rich man.
When the surf beat roaring on the strand, Xanthe thought she could hear these creatures guiding their course with their scaly tails and blowing into shells, and many a glimmering foam-crest on a deep-blue wave was no transparent bubble-no, the girl distinctly saw that it was the white neck, the gleaming arm, or the snowy foot of one of Nereus's daughters.
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?
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?"
To day and at this hour the morning sunlight fell serenely on the tall cypresses upon the hill, the trees in the garden swayed in the soft breath of the morning breeze, and Xanthe nodded to them, for she thought the beautiful Dryads living in the trees were greeting each other.
"Deaf?" asked the old man in astonishment. "Yes, they scarcely understand a word correctly, and even Xanthe, who has just reached her seventeenth year, is beginning to be hard of hearing." A smile flitted over Jason's face, and, raising his voice to a louder tone, he said, flatteringly: "Every one can't have senses as keen as yours, Semestre; have you time to listen to me?"
While the priest of Aphrodite received Jason's gift, praised the pig's beauty, and promised to slay it immediately, but said he would only accept the lean animal Mopsus offered in Semestre's name for the sake of its ornaments and the giver, Xanthe came out of her father's house.
Twenty times she had stooped to pluck fresh lavender, green lettuce, and young, red turnips, and each time, while straightening herself again by her myrtle-staff, as well as a back bent by age would allow, called "Xanthe, Xanthe!" Though she at last threw her head back so far that the sun shone into her open mouth, and the power of her lungs was not small, no answer came.
"Oh!" he replied, in a tone of mingled surprise and sorrow, "you ought not to have believed that." "Xanthe turned, raised her eyes in astonishment, and asked "Then where have you been these last nights?" "Up in your olive-grove with the three Hermes." "You?" "How amazed you look!" "I was only thinking of the wicked fellows who have robbed many trees of their fruit.
Then the old woman described what occurred at such banquets, and when she mentioned the painted flute-players, with whom the dissipated city youths squandered their fathers' money, and the old house-keeper called attention to the fact that Phaon already wandered about as stupidly and sleepily as if he were a docile pupil of the notorious Hermias, Xanthe fairly hated her, and almost forgot the respect she owed to her gray hair, and told her to her face she was a liar and slanderer.
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