Attica to take charge of a
fishing fleet in the Euxine Sea. Then he became a navigator, trading on
land and sea; his caravans threaded Asia, through warlike tribes, and
among peoples who dwelt in the lethargy of a remote and decadent
civilization. He was a powerful personage in the court of some tyrants
who admired him on seeing him drink at a gulp an amphora of perfumed
wine, and overcome the giants of the guard in a boxing match with the
agile dexterity of a true Athenian; and, loaded with riches, he built a
palace in Rhodes near the sea, and he gave banquets which lasted three
days and nights. The earthquake which flung down the Colossus, also
destroyed his fortune; his ships were sunk, his warehouses full of
merchandise disappeared beneath the waves, and he began again his
pilgrimage roundabout the world; in some places he was a singing master,
in others a military instructor of the young men, until, attracted by
the Spartan war, he enlisted in the army of Cleomenes, the last Greek
hero, accompanying him at the moment in which, vanquished, he embarked
for Alexandria. Poor, disappointed, convinced that riches would never
return to him, saddened at seeing the whole world filled with the names
of Carthage and Rome, while that of Greece was sinking into oblivion, he
had come to take final refuge in Saguntum, the small and almost unknown
Republic, in search of bread and of peace. Perhaps, in this retired
spot, if war did not disturb its calm, he would write the history of his
adventures.

Sonnica followed his narrative with interest, fixing upon Actaeon a
glance of sympathy.

"And you, who have been a hero and a potentate, have come to serve this
city as a simple mercenary?"

"Mopsus the archer has promised to give me a post of distinction among
his troops."

"That is not enough, Actaeon. You would have to live like the other
soldiers, spending your life in the Forum taverns, and sleeping on the
steps of the Temple of Hercules. No! here is your home! Sonnica will
protect you!"

In her sparkling eyes, enlarged by the dark circle traced about them,
shone an almost maternal love and sympathy.

The Athenian gazed at her with admiration as she sat erect in her chair
like a white cloud in the dimly illuminated library, which, like all
Grecian rooms, received no other light than that entering through the
doorway.

"Let us go into the garden, Actaeon. The afternoon is delicious, and we
can imagine ourselves for a mome