e-players, with whom the dissipated city
youths squandered their fathers' money, and the old house-keeper called
attention to the fact that Phaon already wandered about as stupidly and
sleepily as if he were a docile pupil of the notorious Hermias, Xanthe
fairly hated her, and almost forgot the respect she owed to her gray
hair, and told her to her face she was a liar and slanderer.

But the girl had been unable to speak, for Phaon's secret courtship of
the Messina heiress had deeply wounded her pride, and he really did look
more weary and dreamy than usual.

Semestre's praises of her cousin, the young Leonax, Xanthe had heard
as little as the chirping of the crickets on the hearth, and before the
house-keeper had finished speaking she rose, and, without bidding her
good-night, turned her back and left the women's apartment.

Ere lying down to rest in her own room, she paced up and down before
her couch, then began to loosen her thick hair so carelessly that the
violent pulling actually hurt her, and tied so tightly under her chin
the pretty scarlet kerchief worn over her golden tresses at night to
prevent them from tangling, that she was obliged to unfasten it again to
keep from stifling.

The sandals, from which she had released her slender feet, and which,
obedient to her dead mother's teaching, she usually placed beside the
chair where her clothes lay smoothly folded, she flung into a corner
of the room, still thinking of Phaon, the Messina heiress, and her
playfellow's shameful conduct. She had intended to discover whether
Semestre spoke the truth, and in the stillness of the night consider
what she must do to ascertain how much Phaon was concerned in his
father's suit.

But the god Morpheus willed otherwise, for scarcely had Xanthe laid down
to rest, extinguished her little lamp, and wrapped herself closely in
the woolen coverlet, when sleep overpowered her.

The young girl waked just before sunrise, instantly thought of Phaon, of
the heiress, and of Semestre's wicked words, and hastily went out to the
spring.

From there she could see whether her uncle's son returned home from the
city with staggering steps, or would, as usual, come out of the house
early in the morning to curry and water his brown steeds, which no slave
was ever permitted to touch.

But he did not appear, and, in his place, the high-shouldered servant
entered the court-yard.

If the young girl was usually sad here, because she liked t