[Ill.u.s.tration]

Tryphera's robe was of fine sea-green stuff entirely trimmed with flowering iris. A carbuncle set in gold gathered it up into a spindle-shaped pleat over the left shoulder; the robe fell slantingly between the two b.r.e.a.s.t.s, leaving the entire right side of her body naked down to the metal girdle; a narrow slit, that opened and closed at every step, alone revealed the whiteness of the leg.

"Seso!" said another voice. "Seso and Tryphera, come with me if you don't know what to do. I am going to the Ceramic Wall to see whether my name is written up."

"Mousarion! Where have you come from, my dear?"

"From Pharos. There is n.o.body there."

"What do you mean? There is nothing to do but fish, it is so full."

"No turbots for me. I am off to the wall. Come."

On the way, Seso told them about the projected banquet at Bacchis's over again.

"Ah! at Bacchis's!" cried Mousarion. "You remember the last dinner, Tryphera, and all the stories about Chrysis?"

"You must not repeat them. Seso is her friend."

Mousarion bit her lips; but Seso had already taken the alarm.

"What did they say about her?"

"Oh! various ill-natured things."

"Let people talk," declared Seso. "We three together are not worth Chrysis. The day she decides to leave her quarter and shew herself at Brouchion, I know of some of our lovers whom we shall never see again."

"Oh! Oh!"

"Certainly. I would commit any folly for that woman. Be sure that there is none here more beautiful than she."

The three girls had now arrived in front of the Ceramic Wall.

Inscriptions written in black succeeded one another along the whole length of its immense white surface. When a lover desired to present himself to a courtesan, he had merely to write up their two names, with the price he offered; if the man and the money were approved of, the woman remained standing under the notice until the lover re-appeared.

"Look, Seso," said Tryphera, laughing.

"Who is the practical joker who has written that?"

And they read in huge letters:

BACCHIS THERSIES 2 OBOLS

"It ought not to be allowed to make fun of the women like that. If I were the rhymarch, I should already have held an enquiry."

But further on, Seso stopped before an inscription more to the point:

SESO OF CNIDOS TIMON THE SON OF LYSIAS 1 MINA

She turned slightly pale.

"I stay," she said.

And she leaned her back against the wall under the envious glances of the women that pa.s.sed by.

A few steps further on Mousarion found an acceptable offer, if not as generous an one. Tryphera returned to the quay alone.

As the hour was advanced, the crowd had become less compact. But the three musicians were still singing and playing the flute.

Catching sight of a stranger whose clothes and rotundity were slightly ridiculous, Tryphera tapped him on the shoulder.

"I say! Papa! I wager that you are not an Alexandrian, eh?"

"No indeed, my girl," answered the honest fellow. "And you have guessed rightly. I am quite astounded at the town and the people."

"You are from Boubastis?"

"No. From Cabasa. I came here to sell grain, and I am going back again to-morrow, richer by fifty-two minae. Thanks be to the G.o.ds! it has been a good year."

Tryphera suddenly began to take an great interest in this merchant.

"My child," he resumed timidly, "you can give me a great joy. I don't want to return to Cabasa to-morrow without being able to tell my wife and three daughters that I have seen some celebrated men, You probably know some celebrated men?"

"Some few," she said, laughing.

"Good. Name them to me when they pa.s.s. I am sure that during the last two days I have met the most influential functionaries. I am in despair at not knowing them by sight."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"You shall have your wish. This is Naucrates."

"Who is Naucrates?"

"A philosopher."

"And what does he teach?"

"Silence."

"By Zeus, that is a doctrine that does not require much genius, and this philosopher does not please me at all."

"That is Phrasilas."

"Who is Phrasilas?"

"A fool."