ut the little dogs still flew loudly yelping into the
yard each time a new-comer entered by the open gate.

"Come, Aglaia, what will folks think of you? Thalia, my beauty, behave
like a good dog; come here, Euphrosyne, and don't be so silly!" cried
the old lady in a voice which was both pleasant and peremptory, as
she stood-wide awake now-behind her table, folding together the dried
clothes. The little barking beasts who were thus endowed with the
names of the three Graces did not trouble themselves much about her
affectionate admonitions; to their sorrow, for it happened more
than once to each of them, when they had got under the feet of some
new-comer, to creep, whining and howling, into the house again to seek
consolation from their mistress, who would pick up the sufferer and
soothe it with kisses and coaxing.

The old lady was no longer alone, for in the background, on a long and
narrow couch which stood in front of the statue of Apollo, lay a tall,
lean man, wearing a red chiton. A little lamp hanging from the ceiling
threw a dull light on him and on the lute he was playing. To the faint
sound of the instrument, which was rather a large one, and which he had
propped on the pillow by his side, he was singing, or rather murmuring
a long ditty. Twice, thrice, four times he repeated it in the same way.
Now and again he suddenly let his voice sound more loudly--and though
his hair was quite grey his voice was not unpleasing--and sang a few
phrases full of expression and with artistic delivery; and then, when
the dogs barked too vehemently, he would spring up, and with his lute in
his left-hand and a long pliable rattan in his right, he would rush into
the court-yard, shout the names of the dogs, and raise his cane as if he
would kill them; but he always took care not to hit them, only to beat
on the pavement near them. When, returning from such an excursion, he
stretched himself again on his couch, the old woman, pointing to the
hanging-lamp which the impatient creature often knocked with his head,
would call out, "Euphorion, mind the oil."

And he each time answered with the same threatening gesture and the same
glare in his black eyes:

"The little brutes!"

The singer had been diligently practising his musical exercises for
about an hour, when the dogs rushed into the court-yard, not barking
this time, but yelping loudly with joy. The old woman laid aside the
washing and listened, but the tall man said:

"As