man
half a drachm, and, clapping his hands, exclaimed:

"Now, children, kick up your heels; we sha'n't see Semestre again
immediately. You did your business well, friend: but now come here and
interpret your hen's oracles."

The conjurer bowed, by bending his big head and quickly raising it
again, for his short back seemed to be immovable, approached the master
of the house, and with his little round fingers grasped at the leaf in
Lysander's hand; but the latter hastily drew it back, saying:

"First this girl, then I, for her future is long, while mine--"

"Yours," interrupted the dwarf, standing before Lysander--"yours will be
a pleasant one, for the hen has drawn for you a leaf that means peaceful
happiness."

"A violet-leaf!" exclaimed Xanthe. "Yes, a violet-leaf," repeated the
conjurer. "Put it in my hand. There are--just look here--there are seven
lines, and seven--everybody knows that--seven is the number of health.
Peaceful happiness in good health, that is what your oracle says." "The
gods owe me that, after suffering so long," sighed Lysander. "At any
rate, come back here in a year, and if your cackling Pythia and this
little leaf tell the truth, and I am permitted to bring it to you
without support or crutch, I'll give you a stout piece of cloth for a
new cloak; yet nay, better try your luck in six months, for your chiton
looks sicker than I, and will hardly last a whole year."

"Not half a one," replied the conjurer, with a sly smile. "Give me the
piece of stuff to-day, that, when I come back in a month, I may have
suitable garments when I amuse the guests at the feast given for your
recovery. I'm no giant, and shall not greatly impair your store."

"We'll see what can be done," replied Lysander, laughing, "and if, when
you return in a month, I don't turn you from the door as a bad prophet,
in spite of your fine clothes, your flute-player shall have a piece of
linen for his thin limbs. But now foretell my daughter's future, too."

The dwarf took Xanthe's leaf from her hand, and said:

"This comes from an olive-tree, is particularly long, and has a light
and dark side. You will live to a great age, and your life will be more
or less happy as you shape it."

"As you shape it," repeated the girl. "That's a real hen's oracle. 'As
people do, so things will be,' my nurse used to say every third word."
Disappointed and angry, she threw the leaf on the ground, and turned her
back on the little man.

The