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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 felt and saw that her father was suffering, and exclaimed in a fearless, resolute tone: "Silence, Semestre! your scolding is hurting my father." These words increased the house-keeper's wrath instead of lessening it. In a half-furious, half-whining tone, she exclaimed: "So it comes to this! The child orders the old woman.
She had intended to discover whether Semestre spoke the truth, and in the stillness of the night consider what she must do to ascertain how much Phaon was concerned in his father's suit. But the god Morpheus willed otherwise, for scarcely had Xanthe laid down to rest, extinguished her little lamp, and wrapped herself closely in the woolen coverlet, when sleep overpowered her.
Take care of the large chest with the Phoenician dishes and matron's robes, my lads." During the first moments of the welcome, Semestre had approached her darling's son, told him who she was, received his father's messages of remembrance, kissed his hand, and stroked his arm.
"My Alciphron has a heart!" cried the house-keeper. "You shall receive from me, on the day of your departure, the same sum and a matron's blue robe," said Lysander. Shortly after the marriage of Xanthe and Phaon, Semestre went to live with her daughter.
There's something on my mind I would like to discuss with the clever house-keeper, nay, I ought to say the mistress of this house, and faithful guardian of its only daughter." Semestre turned her wrinkled face towards the old man, opened her eyes to their widest extent, and then called eagerly to Dorippe, who was busied about the hearth, "We want to be alone!"
"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.
Jason stood directly opposite, and, while thus measuring each other with their eyes, Semestre looked like a cautious cat awaiting the attack of the less nimble but stronger shepherd's dog. "You know," Jason began, that when, long ago, we two, you as nurse and I as steward, came to this place, our present masters' fine estates belonged undivided to their father.
Like a frugal steward, he decided upon the latter course, and, just as he was comparing the image of the lean, spotted animal with its future well-rounded condition, he heard the hoofs of the donkey driven by Mopsus, the heavy thud of a stick on the elastic flesh, and after every blow, the shout, "Semestre!"
Whenever Xanthe used it, she insisted upon having her own way, and did what she pleased, while Semestre, who usually never admitted that her hearing was no longer so keen as in former clays, in such cases willingly pleaded her deafness, in order to avoid a retreat. To-day she particularly shrank from irritating the easily-excited girl, and therefore replied: "What did you say?
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