ose the moon like an enormous
honey-colored disk. Only in the small fishermen's ports lingered
animation. The women, naked from above the waist, tucking between their
legs the rags which served them as a tunic, walked into the water up to
their knees to wash the fish, and then putting them into broad baskets
on their heads they took up their journey, dragging their big-bellied,
naked youngsters after them. From the silent and motionless ships came
groups of men who traveled toward the wretched settlement spread around
the foot of the temple. They were sailors going in search of taverns and
brothels.

The Greek knew those customs well; it was a port like many others he had
seen--the temple on the hill to guide the navigator, and below, wine in
abundance, easy love, and the sanguinary fight as a termination of the
feast. He thought for a moment of starting on the journey to the city,
but the way was long, he did not know the road, and he preferred to
remain, sleeping where he could until sunrise.

He had entered one of the winding lanes formed by the hovels thrown
together at hazard, as if they had fallen in confusion from the sky,
with their walls of earth and roofs of reeds and straw, with narrow
slits for light, and with only a few rags sewn together or a bit of
threadbare tapestry, for a door. In some, with less wretched exteriors,
dwelt the modest traders of the port, ship chandlers, dealers in grain,
and those who, with the assistance of slaves, brought casks of water
from the springs in the valley to the vessels; but the majority of the
hovels were taverns and lupanars.

Some of the houses had alongside the doors signs in Greek, Iberian, or
Latin, painted with red ochre.

The Greek heard some one calling him. It was a little, bald, fat man
beckoning from the door of his dwelling.

"Greeting, son of Athens!" he said, to flatter him with the name of the
most famous city of Greece. "Come in! Here you will be among your own,
for my forefathers also came from Athens. See the sign on my tavern, 'To
Pallas Athene'. Here you will find wine from Laurona, as excellent as
that from Attica; if you wish to try the Celtiberian beer, I have it
also, and if you desire, I can serve you with a certain flask of wine
from Samos, as authentic as the goddess of Athens which adorns my
counter."

The Greek answered with a smile and a shake of his head, while the
loquacious tavern-keeper went into his hut, lifting the tapestry to
a