o men did not susp

ect that she could comprehend. In this way Myrtale had learned to257 know more of the world and life than other young girls who spent their days i

n a virgin chamber.T T Pa

rt of the wome

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n’s apartment. The slaves’ negligence, the only thing that could have shadowed her youth, disturbed her far less than it troubled her father, since she always had he

ts delicately-rounde
r faithful nur

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se with her and?/p>

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猼hanks to the

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freedom gra

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nted her—enjoyed

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Check out the great features of the theme and purchase d outlines were

her life like a careless child, to whom the present moment is everything. When Myrtale came out into the garden early that morning, she sto

fully displayed by t


od still for a time irresolute but, woman-like, not idle. Seeing how dark and wet the ground was


and what big drops glittered in the grass, she instantly set to work to fasten up her dress tha


t it might not be soiled by dampness. Then she tripped on through maples, ivy, and vines twined

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around poles which rested on stout posts, towards the most secluded part of the ga

rden. When she reached the bee-hives and heard the buzzing of the insects, she paused a moment, laughed softly, and said to herself with a mischievous little smile: “Now I know what to do—he shall be forced to confess everything.” Seeing some superb white lilies, she left her silver-embroidered sandals in the garden-path and skipped on her little bare feet into the wet grass. While gathering the flowers she felt as though ants were crawling on her and, raising her dress a little, looked over her shoulder at her ankles, carefully examining each. The pretty girl thought herself alone and258 unobserved, and there was something so bewitching in her whole appearance that it would have been a pity not to have had a w

"he256 re is available for the ridiculously low, one-time cost of d robe That's right, I'm practically giving it away!鈥?


itness. But there was a witness. Lycon, who had been unable to sleep all night, because each passing day brought the decision of his fate nearer, had gone out into the garden early and seated himself on a bench in the nearest th

she wore.

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icket. From his green ambush not one of My

rtale’s movements escaped his notice. Had he been familiar with Homer, he would have thought that she resembled Danae, Acrisius’ daugh

The littl follow me follow me follow me
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ter, and deserved the name of Callisphyrus

, the maid with the beautiful calves. But Lycon knew nothing of Homer, so he contented himself with muttering: “Is that Myrtale? How

e Methonia follow me follow me follow me
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pretty she has grown.” Yet he did not

go to meet her. Of course she would have been frightened by the sight of a strange man. And what should he talk about? He had nothing t

n bore no follow me follow me follow me
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o say to her. While Myrtale was putting on her silver-wrought sandals, a black

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and white goat, with trailing tether, came running towards her. Sh

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e glanced at the wet, rough-coated animal, then at her light dress

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and, drawing back, clapped her hands violently to frighten the cr

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eature away. But the goat did not understand. It merely stopped in

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its run and approached slowly, holding its head very high, eviden

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tly supposing the movement of her hands a challenge to play. With

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the mischievousness natural to this animal it suddenly made a259 c

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ouple of short, frolicsome leaps, lowered its head and sharp horns

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, and darted towards the y

oung girl. Without hesitation

Myrtale pulled up the nearest flower-stake and defended herself against the goat. But the animal, now it was once in fighting mood, constantly renewed the attack and the young girl found it more and more difficult to keep the creature at bay. She was therefore more pleased than alarmed when the bushes rustled and Lycon sprang out and seized the goat’s tether. M

rgins adorned


yrtale silently put back the flower-stake, and busied herself in tying up the plan

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t. For some time neither spoke. “Are you Myrtale, Simonides’ daughter?” asked Lycon, as

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he watched the pretty Methonian with a pleasure he had never felt before. Myrtale nodded ass

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ent. “Are you Lycon, the Athenian, my father’s guest?” she inquired, without raising her e

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yes to the stranger’s face. Lycon had scarcely time to reply, for the goat now renewed its a

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ttack upon him. He laughed: “Come, my kid. You shall learn that I am not called Lycon with t

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he big hand for nothing.” Seizing one of the goat’s horns with one hand, and its little tai


l with the other, he lifted the mischievous animal from the ground so that its fou

r legs hung loosely down. Wh

en he set it on the ea

rth again the creature was thoroughly cowed. Bleating feeb

ly, it260 unresistingl

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y allowed itself to be dragged back to the grass-plot from which it had escaped. At the beehives Myrtale managed to have Lycon pass tolerably near them. While the insects were buzzing most thickly around him, she suddenly exclaimed: “A bee, a bee!” and laying her hand on Lycon’s neck added: “Don’t you feel any pain? It must have stung you. I saw it creep out from under your robe.” Lycon denied fe

the vestib

eling any hurt. “Let me

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ith which the stings of wasps and bees can be instantly cured.” “It is unnecessary,” replied Lycon curtly. “Do as I beg you,” u

rged Myrtale. “Girl!” c

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ashed, the color in her cheeks deepened, and she suddenly stopped. “Zenon,” she said, raising her voice, “I, the daughter of your ma

ster Simonides, command you

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and horrified than by these words. “Merciful Gods!” he exclaimed, turning pale and clasping his hands, “how do you know?—Who has to

ld you?” 261 “Silence!?/p>

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he first sound of your voice, though you now speak the Attic dialect. You are Zenon, do not deny it. Shall I call Conops and the others, a


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nd have your robe torn off? There is a kappa on your shoulder; I know it.” “Oh, miserable man that I am!” exclaime

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d Lycon, wringing his hands, while his eyes filled with tears. “I have seen you to my destruction.” And falling at Myr

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tale’s feet, he clasped her knees, adding: “How shall I answer? What am I to say?” “The truth.” “Ah, I will

Conops, turne


conceal nothing, but tell you a secret which is the key of my soul. Know that I am

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not, as you suppose, slave-born. My parents were free and lived in Carystus at Eub?a. My father was overseer of the slaves in the marble quarries. During my childhood he lived comfortably; but afterwards he began to drink, became involved in debt, and with his wife and child was s

01 One Fourth

old into slavery. Yet, with my free birth, I had obtained a different temper from that of a slave. The scourge humbled far more than it hurt me, and I could not laugh with the rest when the pain was over. Day and night I plotted to gain my freedom and, as I could not pu

02 One Fourth

rchase it, I resolved to steal it. To be free I could have robbed the gods themselves. The first time I failed—I was caught and branded. The next I was more successful.... There—now you know my crime.” 262 And he then told her about his happy life in Athens, his d

03 One Fourth

eep repentance at Phorion’s description of Simonides’ illness, and his determination to restore the discipline of the household in order to obtain forgiveness. Myrtale did not lose a single word, but while Lycon was kneeling before her she noticed that his tearful

04 One Fourth

eyes were very handsome, and that a delicate odor of ointment rose from his hair. The power of trifles has always been great, especially with women. This perfume made a strange impression upon her. For a moment she forgot that Lycon was a slave, and compared him in her

01 One Half

mind with the son of their neighbor the baker, who after having spent ten days in Athens went as foppishly clad and moved as stiffly as the Athenian dandies. She looked at Lycon’s broad shoulders and sinewy arms—and whatever the cause, she felt more kindly disposed.

02 One Half

“You are a strange person,” she said, gazing into Lycon’s eyes. “Who and what are you?... Half Athenian and half Methonian, half citizen and half slave, half Lycon and half Zenon. I will do as my father once did: I will trust you, though perhaps I am unwise.”

01 One Third

With these words she was hurrying towards the house, but Lycon seized a fold of her robe. “Myrtale,” he said, “believe me, a good emotion induced me to return. Consider how free from care my life was in Athens, and what I have risked. Do not make me miserable—do

02 One Third

not prematurely reveal263 my secret, so that your father will refuse me his forgiveness! He who has once been free is of no value as a slave.” Myrtale noticed the shudder that ran through his limbs, and felt strangely moved. She read in Lycon’s eyes the anguish he

03 One Third

was suffering and to console him said: “Have no fear! Myrtale does not hate Lycon.... I have never forgotten how kind you were to me when I was a child. I still have the little cart you made for me.” “And I,” said Lycon, deeply moved as he seized her arm and k

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issed it, “I did not suppose that little Myrtale would become such a girl—so good and so beautiful!” Myrtale smiled. “Now Lycon is forgetting Zenon!” she replied, and raising her light dress, ran off towards the house. But Lycon was by no means cheerful. On the contra

  • d his clumsy head to wat
  • ch her as she pa
  • ssed and among the slave
  • s, who half neglected
  • and half admired her, she was
  • never called anything but hē pais
  • , “the child.” Myrtale, h
  • owever, was a child who had a will
  • of her own and a very d
  • etermined one. H
  • aving early lost her mot
  • her, she had had no fe
  • male companionship except her nurse, who indul
  • ged her in everything. She had been educ
  • ated in a much freer manner than was usually t

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ry he was very anxious at knowing his secret was in a woman’s keeping. “The sooner I speak to Simonides the better,” he thought. VII. Two days after, just as Lycon had breakfasted with the master of the house, Carion, the old slave, entered. Lycon was going to rise and leave


the room, but Simonides264 took him by th

e arm and made him keep his place on the edge of the couch. “Master,” said old Carion, “I have come to ask for myself and the

  • he case with Hellenic maidens.
  • She took her meals with her fathe
  • r, even when his friend Polycles,
  • the wine-dealer, visited him.


rest of the slaves that you will forgive a

nd forget. If you only will not sell us to the mines, we will obey you in everything and, as a token of our submission, we bring you

  • ycles noticed that the young g
  • irl did not lack intelligence he o
  • ften asked her opinion, and this p
  • leased Simonides, who spoiled


the household implements of punishment, a

ll of them, and in good condition.” Simonides could scarcely believe his ears, and turned to his guest in speechless surprise. L

  • child and treated her more li
  • ke a son and heir than like a daug
  • hter. Nay, when Simonides, duri
  • ng his days of health, read al


ycon laughed in his sleeve. At a sign fro

m Carion, two young slaves entered and laid at their master’s feet large and small whips, iron collars, fetters, stocks, branding i

  • plays of Magnes, the Icarian,
  • Myrtale, at that time a girl of th
  • irteen or fourteen, was usually pr
  • esent and stimulated by the un


rons, neck-wheels, and the so-called “tree,” which served as a pillory and at the same time inflicted the torture of sitting in a doubled up position. Bringing in all these articles consumed time enough to enable Simonides to regain his composure. Without showing his satisfact


ion in the presence of the slaves, he replied that he would grant their petition and forgive what had happened. No one should suffer oppression, but if any one did wrong he would be punished. Carion, the first who had given an example of obedience, would be made overseer of the oth

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ers, and in token that he himself was ready to forget what had happened, each of them would be received that evening as if he were e


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ntering his master’s house for the first time. He should be led to the hearth by the265 overseer and there receive figs, dried grap


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es, nuts, and small pastry cakes, in token that there was an abundance in the house and he would lack nothing. Simonides then ord


ered the slaves to carry the instruments of punishment to the room intended for th

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em. Scarcely was he alone with Lycon ere, with overflowing affection, he pressed him to his breast. “By all the gods of friendship!” he exclaimed, “tell me by what magic you have accomplished this?” Lycon now mentioned the chastisement he had given Conops, and the demand he had ma

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de of the slaves in their master’s name und

er the penalty of labor in the mines.

Simonides grasped Lyc

on’s hand and

pressed it in

both his own.

“Though a


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stranger,” he said, “you have fulfilled my dearest wi

sh and restored order to my household. May the gods bless you for it! To my dyin

g day I shall remember this time as a happy hour. But te

ll me, my son, is there nothing you desire, nothing I can do for you?” Lycon

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