Messina."

"But surely not for the youth's happiness, nor do I come to speak to you
in Protarch's name."

"So you invented the little plan yourself--I am afraid without success,
for I've already told you that my master has other views."

"Then try to win him to our side--no, not only to us, but to do what is
best for the prosperity of this house."

"Not for this house; only for yourselves. Your plan doesn't please me."

"Why not?"

"I don't wish what you desire."

"'I don't wish;' that's a woman's most convincing reason.

"It is, for at least I desire nothing I haven't carefully considered. And
you know Alciphron, in Syracuse, our master's oldest brother, did not ask
for the heiress, who probably seemed to him too insignificant for his own
family, but wanted our girl for his son Leonax. We joyfully gave our
consent, and, within a few days, perhaps to-morrow, the suitor will come
from Messina with your master to see his bride."

"Still, I stick to it: your Xanthe belongs to our Phaon, and, if you
would act according to Dionysius's wishes, like fair-minded people--"

"Isn't Alciphron--the best and wisest of men--also Dionysius's child? 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. To please Alciphron, your
foster-child, you would make us all beggars. If Lysander gives his
daughter to Leonax it will be your work, yours alone, and we will--"

Semestre did not allow herself to be intimidated, but, angrily raising
her myrtle-staff, interrupted Jason by exclaiming in a loud, tremulous
voice:

You are right. This old heart clings to Alciphron, and throbs more
quickly at the mere mention of its darling's name; but verily you have
done little to win our affection. Last autumn the harvest of new wine was
more abundant than we expected. We lacked skins, and when we asked you to
help us with yours--"

"We said no, because we ourselves did not know what to do with the
harvest."

"And who shamefully killed my gray cat?"

"It entered Phaon's dove-cote and killed the young of his best pair of
cropper pigeons."

"It was a marten, not the good, kind creature. You are unfriendly in all
your acts, for when our brown h