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Ismene had a daughter herself just Xanthe's age, so it must probably have been true. Then why, in the name of all the gods, was Xanthe sad? Is any cause required to explain it? Must a maiden have met with misfortune, to make her feel a longing to weep? Certainly not. Nay, the gayest rattle-brain is the least likely to escape such a desire.
You, Rameri, shall in a year from to-day and I think you will not forget the date find at your service a ship in the harbor of Pelusium, fitted and manned with Phoenicians, to convey you to your wedding." "So be it!" exclaimed the old man. "And by Zeus who hears me swear I will not withhold Xanthe's daughter from your son when he comes to claim her!"
"How many cheeses?" asked the housekeeper." "Two," replied Lysander. "One will be more than enough," cried Semestre. " Bring only one, Chloris." The invalid smilingly shrugged his shoulders, clasped Xanthe's hand as she stood beside him, and said in so low a tone that the old woman could not hear: "Haven't I grown like little thick-skull's hens? Semestre commands and I must obey.
I would give his first-born, rather than any one else, this fruitful soil, and, when the rich father's favorite, when Leonax once rules here by Xanthe's side, there'll be no lack of means to rebuild the platform and renew a few marble benches." Angered by these words, the old man indignantly exclaimed: "You add mockery to wrong. We know the truth.
Lysander, Xanthe's father, had been helped out of the house into the sunlight, and, seated in his arm-chair of polished olive-wood, was gazing at the show. As soon as he saw his daughter, he beckoned to her, and stroking her hair, while she pressed her lips to his forehead, said: "An amusing sight! The two hens obey the little man as if they were dutiful children.
"I hold you to your promise!" exclaimed Jason. "Your sucking-pig has just been offered to Aphrodite. The priest gladly accepted it and slaughtered it before my eyes, imploring the goddess with me, to fill Xanthe's heart with love for Phaon."
Every reddish pebble, every smooth bit of snowy quartz, every point and furrow and stripe on the pretty shells on its sandy bottom, was as distinctly visible as if held before the eyes on the palm of the hand, and yet the water was so deep that the gold circlet sparkling above the elbow on Xanthe's round arm, nay, even the gems confining her peplum on the shoulder, would have been wet had she tried to touch the bottom of the basin with the tips of her fingers.
I would give his first-born, rather than any one else, this fruitful soil, and, when the rich father's favorite, when Leonax once rules here by Xanthe's side, there'll be no lack of means to rebuild the platform and renew a few marble benches." Angered by these words, the old man indignantly exclaimed: "You add mockery to wrong. We know the truth.
"How many cheeses?" asked the housekeeper. "Two," replied Lysander. "One will be more than enough," cried Semestre "Bring only one, Chloris." The invalid smilingly shrugged his shoulders, clasped Xanthe's hand as she stood beside him, and said in so low a tone that the old woman could not hear: "Haven't I grown like little thick-skull's hens? Semestre commands and I must obey.
Protarch himself had gone to Messina, with his own and her father's oil. To age is allotted the alms of reverence, to youth the gift of love, and, of the three men who lived in the house on Xanthe's right-hand, only one could lay claim to such a gift, and he had an unusually good right to do so.
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